THE  APE,  THE  IDIOT 
AND  OTHER  PEOPLE 


FOURTH  EDITION 


THE  APE 
THE  IDIOT 
&  OTHER 
PEOPLE 

BY 

W.  C.  MORROW 


PHILADELPHIA 
J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT 
COMPANY  1910 


COPYRIGHT,  1897 

BY 
J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 


*"pHE  stories  in  this  volume  are 
•*•  published  with  the  kind  permis 
sion  of  the  periodicals  in  which  they 
originally  appeared  —  Lippincotf s 
Magazine,  Philadelphia,  and  the 
Overland  Monthly,  the  Argonaut, 
the  Examiner,  the  News  Letter, 
and  the  Call,  all  of  San  Francisco. 


Contents 


PAGE 

THE  RESURRECTION  OF  LITTLE  WANG  TAI     .    .  9 

THE  HERO  OF  THE  PLAGUE  .........  24 

His  UNCONQUERABLE  ENEMY     ........  48  > 

THE  PERMANENT  STILETTO   .........  67 

OVER  AN  ABSINTHE  BOTTLE      ........  90 

THE  INMATE  or  THE  DUNGEON    .......  109 

A  GAME  OF  HONOR   ............  134 

TREACHEROUS  VELASCO   ...........  14? 

AN  UNCOMMON  VIEW  OF  IT     ........  168 

A  STORY  TOLD  BY  THE  SEA     ........  188 

THE  MONSTER-MAKER    ...........  113 

AN  ORIGINAL  REVENGE  ...........  »45 

Two  SINGULAR  MEN  ............  356 

THE  FAITHFUL  AMULET     ..........  *75 


The  Resurrection  of  Little  Wang 
Tai 


A  TRAIN  of  circus-wagons,  strung  along  a 
dusty  road,  in  the  Santa  Clara  Valley, 
crept  slowly  under  the  beating  heat  of  a  July 
sun.  The  dust  rolled  in  clouds  over  the  gaudy 
wagons  of  the  menagerie.  The  outer  doors 
of  the  cages  had  been  opened  to  give  access 
of  air  to  the  panting  animals,  but  with  the  air 
came  the  dust,  and  the  dust  annoyed  Rom 
ulus  greatly.  Never  before  had  he  longed  for 
freedom  so  intensely.  Ever  since  he  could 
remember  he  had  been  in  a  cage  like  this ;  it 
had  been  so  all  through  his  childhood  and 
youth.  There  was  no  trace  in  his  memory  of 
days  when  he  of  a  time  had  been  free.  Not 
the  faintest  recollection  existed  of  the  time 
when  he  might  have  swung  in  the  branches 
of  equatorial  forests.  To  him  life  was  a  deso 
lation  and  a  despair,  and  the  poignancy  of  it 
all  was  sharpened  by  the  clouds  of  dust  which 
rolled  through  the  grated  door. 
9 


THE   RESURRECTION   OF 

Romulus,  thereupon,  sought  means  of 
escape.  Nimble,  deft,  sharp-sighted,  he 
found  a  weak  place  in  his  prison,  worked  it 
open,  and  leaped  forth  upon  the  highway  a 
free  anthropoid  ape.  None  of  the  sleepy, 
weary  drivers  noticed  his  escape,  and  a  proper 
sense  of  caution  caused  him  to  seek  security 
under  a  way-side  shrub  until  the  procession 
had  safely  passed.  Then  the  whole  world  lay 
before  him. 

His  freedom  was  large  and  sweet,  but,  for 
a  while,  perplexing.  An  almost  instindlive 
leap  to  catch  the  trapeze-bar  that  had  hung  in 
his  cage  brought  his  hands  in  contact  with  only 
unresisting  air.  This  confused  and  somewhat 
frightened  him.  The  world  seemed  much 
broader  and  brighter  since  the  black  bars  of 
his  prison  no  longer  striped  his  vision.  And 
then,  to  his  amazement,  in  place  of  the  dingy 
covering  of  his  cage  appeared  a  vast  and  awful 
expanse  of  blue  heaven,  the  tremendous  depth 
and  distance  of  which  terrified  him. 

The  scampering  of  a  ground-squirrel  seek 
ing  its  burrow  soon  caught  his  notice,  and  he 
watched  the  little  animal  with  great  curiosity. 
Then  he  ran  to  the  burrow,  and  hurt  his  feet 
on  the  sharp  wheat-stubble.  This  made  him 
more  cautious.  Not  finding  the  squirrel,  he 
10 


LITTLE   WANG   TAI 

looked  about  and  discovered  two  owls  sitting 
on  a  little  mound  not  far  away.  Their  solemn 
gaze  fastened  upon  him  inspired  him  with  awe, 
but  his  curiosity  would  not  permit  him  to 
forego  a  closer  view.  He  cautiously  crept 
towards  them  ;  then  he  stopped,  sat  down,  and 
made  grotesque  faces  at  them.  This  had  no 
effecl:.  He  scratched  his  head  and  thought. 
Then  he  made  a  feint  as  though  he  would 
pounce  upon  them,  and  they  flew.  Romulus 
gazed  at  them  with  the  greatest  amazement,  for 
never  before  had  he  seen  anything  skim 
through  the  air.  But  the  world  was  so  wide 
and  freedom  so  large  that  surely  everything 
free  ought  to  fly  ;  so  Romulus  sprang  into  the 
air  and  made  motions  with  his  arms  like  to 
those  the  owls  had  made  with  their  wings ; 
and  the  first  grievous  disappointment  which 
his  freedom  brought  came  when  he  found 
himself  sprawling  on  the  field. 

His  alert  mind  sought  other  exercise.  Some 
distance  away  stood  a  house,  and  at  the  front 
gate  was  a  man,  and  Romulus  knew  man  to  be 
the  meanest  and  most  cruel  of  all  living  things 
and  the  conscienceless  taskmaster  of  weaker 
creatures.  So  Romulus  avoided  the  house  and 
struck  out  across  the  fields.  Presently  he  came 
upon  a  very  large  thing  which  awed  him.  It 
ii 


THE   RESURRECTION   OF 

was  a  live-oak,  and  the  birds  were  singing  in 
the  foliage.  But  his  persistent  curiosity  put  a 
curb  upon  his  fears,  and  he  crept  closer  and 
closer.  The  kindly  aspect  of  the  tree,  the 
sweetness  of  the  shade  which  it  cast,  the  cool 
depths  of  its  foliage,  the  gentle  swaying  of  the 
boughs  in  the  soft  north  wind — all  invited  him 
to  approach.  This  he  did,  until  he  arrived  at 
the  gnarled  old  bole,  and  then  he  leaped  into 
the  branches  and  was  filled  with  delight.  The 
little  birds  took  flight.  Romulus  sat  upon  a 
limb,  and  then  stretched  himself  at  full  length 
upon  it  and  enjoyed  the  peace  and  comfort  of 
the  moment.  But  he  was  an  ape  and  had  to 
be  employed,  and  so  he  ran  out  upon  the 
smaller  branches  and  shook  them  after  the 
manner  of  his  parents  before  him. 

These  delights  all  exploited,  Romulus 
dropped  to  the  ground  and  began  to  explore 
the  world  again  ;  but  the  world  was  wide  and 
its  loneliness  oppressed  him.  Presently  he 
saw  a  dog  and  made  quickly  for  him.  The 
dog,  seeing  the  strange  creature  approach, 
sought  to  frighten  it  by  barking ;  but  Romulus 
had  seen  similar  animals  before  and  had  heard 
similar  sounds ;  he  could  not  be  frightened  by 
them.  He  went  boldly  towards  the  dog  by 
long  leaps  on  all  fours.  The  dog,  terrified  by 

12 


LITTLE   WANG   TAI 

the  strange-looking  creature,  ran  away  yelping 
and  left  Romulus  with  freedom  and  the  world 
again. 

On  went  Romulus  over  the  fields,  crossing 
a  road  now  and  then,  and  keeping  clear  of  all 
living  things  that  he  found.  Presently  he 
came  to  a  high  picket-fence,  surrounding  a 
great  inclosure,  in  which  sat  a  large  house  in 
a  grove  of  eucalyptus-trees.  Romulus  was 
thirsty,  and  the  playing  of  a  fountain  among 
the  trees  tempted  him  sorely.  He  might  have 
found  courage  to  venture  within  had  he  not  at 
that  moment  discovered  a  human  being,  not 
ten  feet  away,  on  the  other  side  of  the  fence. 
Romulus  sprang  back  with  a  cry  ot  terror,  and 
then  stopped,  and  in  a  crouching  attitude, 
ready  to  fly  for  his  life  and  freedom,  gazed  at 
the  enemy  of  all  creation. 

But  the  look  he  received  in  return  was  so 
kindly,  and  withal  so  peculiar  and  so  unlike 
any  that  he  had  ever  seen  before,  that  his  in- 
stincl:  to  fly  yielded  to  his  curiosity  to  discover. 
Romulus  did  not  know  that  the  great  house  in 
the  grove  was  an  idiot-asylum,  nor  that  the  lad 
with  the  strange  but  kindly  expression  was  one 
of  the  inmates.  He  knew  only  that  kindness 
was  there.  The  look  which  he  saw  was  not 
the  hard  and  cruel  one  of  the  menagerie-keeper, 
13 


THE   RESURRECTION   OF 

nor  the  empty,  idle,  curious  one  of  the  spedta- 
tors,  countenancing  by  their  presence  and  sup 
porting  with  their  money  the  infamous  and 
exclusively  human  practice  of  capturing  wild 
animals  and  keeping  them  all  their  lives  in  the 
torture  of  captivity.  So  deeply  interested  was 
Romulus  in  what  he  saw  that  he  forgot  his 
fear  and  cocked  his  head  on  one  side  and  made 
a  queer  grimace ;  and  his  motions  and  attitude 
were  so  comical  that  Moses,  the  idiot,  grinned 
at  him  through  the  pickets.  But  the  grin  was 
not  the  only  manifestation  of  pleasure  that 
Moses  gave.  A  peculiar  vermicular  move 
ment,  beginning  at  his  feet  and  ending  at  his 
head,  was  the  precursor  of  a  slow,  vacant 
guffaw  that  expressed  the  most  intense  delight 
of  which  he  was  capable.  Moses  never  before 
had  seen  so  queer  a  creature  as  this  little 
brown  man  all  covered  with  hair ;  he  never 
before  had  seen  even  a  monkey,  that  common 
joy  of  ordinary  childhood,  and  remoter  from 
resemblance  to  human  kind  than  was  Romulus. 
Moses  was  nineteen  ;  but,  although  his  voice 
was  childlike  no  longer  and  his  face  was  cov 
ered  with  unsightly  short  hair,  and  he  was 
large  and  strong,  running  mostly  to  legs  and 
arms,  he  was  simple  and  innocent.  His  clothes 
were  much  too  small,  and  a  thick  growth  of 


LITTLE   WANG   TAI 

wild  hair  topped  his  poll,  otherwise  innocent 
of  covering. 

Thus  gazed  these  two  strange  beings  at  each 
other,  held  by  sympathy  and  curiosity.  Neither 
had  the  power  of  speech,  and  hence  neither 
could  lie  to  the  other.  Was  it  instinct  which 
made  Romulus  believe  that  of  all  the  bipedal 
devils  which  infested  the  face  of  the  earth 
there  was  one  of  so  gentle  spirit  that  it  could 
love  him  ?  And  was  it  by  instincl:  that  Romu 
lus,  ignorant  as  he  was  of  the  larger  ways  of 
the  world,  discovered  that  his  own  mind  was 
the  firmer  and  cleverer  of  the  two  ?  And, 
feeling  the  hitherto  unimaginable  sweetness  of 
freedom,  did  there  come  to  him  a  knowledge 
that  this  fellow-being  was  a  prisoner,  as  he 
himself  had  been,  and  longed  for  a  taste  of 
the  open  fields  ?  And  if  Romulus  so  had  rea 
soned,  was  it  a  sense  of  chivalry  or  a  desire 
for  companionship  that  led  him  to  the  res 
cue  of  this  one  weaker  and  more  unfortunate 
than  he  ? 

He  went  cautiously  to  the  fence,  and  put 
through  his  hand  and  touched  Moses.  The 
lad,  much  pleased,  took  the  hand  of  the  ape 
in  his,  and  at  once  there  was  a  good  understand 
ing  between  them.  Romulus  teased  the  boy 
to  follow  him,  by  going  away  a  few  steps  and 
IS 


THE   RESURRECTION   OF 

looking  back,  and  then  going  and  pulling  his 
hand  through  the  fence  -doing  this  repeatedly 
— until  his  intention  worked  its  way  into  the 
idiot's  mind.  The  fence  was  too  high  to  be 
scaled ;  but  now  that  the  desire  for  freedom 
had  invaded  his  being,  Moses  crushed  the 
pickets  with  his  huge  feet  and  emerged  from 
his  prison. 

These  two,  then,  were  at  large.  The 
heavens  were  lifted  higher  and  the  horizon 
was  extended.  At  a  convenient  ditch  they 
slaked  their  thirst,  and  in  an  orchard  they 
found  ripe  apricots ;  but  what  can  satisfy  the 
hunger  of  an  ape  or  an  idiot  ?  The  world  was 
wide  and  sweet  and  beautiful,  and  the  exqui 
site  sense  of  boundless  freedom  worked  like 
rich  old  wine  in  unaccustomed  veins.  These 
all  brought  infinite  delight  to  Romulus  and  his 
charge  as  over  the  fields  they  went. 

I  will  not  tell  particularly  of  all  they  did 
that  wild,  mad,  happy  afternoon,  while  drunk 
and  reeling  with  freedom.  I  might  say  in 
passing  that  at  one  place  they  tore  open  the 
cage  of  a  canary-bird  swinging  in  a  cherry-tree 
out  of  sight  of  the  house,  and  at  another  they 
unbuckled  the  straps  which  bound  a  baby  in  a 
cart,  and  might  have  made  off  with  it  but  for 
fear  of  arrest ;  but  these  things  have  no  rela- 
16 


LITTLE   WANG   TAI 

tion  to   the  climax  of  their  adventures,  now 
hastening  to  accomplishment. 

When  the  sun  had  sunk  lower  in  the  yellow 
splendor  of  the  west  and  the  great  nickel  dome 
of  the  observatory  on  Mount  Hamilton  had 
changed  from  silver  to  copper,  the  two  revel 
lers,  weary  and  now  hungry  again,  came  upon 
a  strange  and  perplexing  place.  It  was  a  great 
oak  with  its  long,  cone-shaped  shadow  pointed 
towards  the  east  and  the  cool  depths  of  its 
foliage  that  first  attracted  them.  About  the 
tree  were  mounds  with  wooden  head-boards, 
which  wiser  ones  would  have  known  the  mean 
ing  of.  But  how  could  an  ape  or  an  idiot  know 
of  a  freedom  so  sweet  and  silent  and  unencom- 
passed  and  unconditional  as  death  ?  And  how 
could  they  know  that  the  winners  of  so  rich  a 
prize  should  be  mourned,  should  be  wetted 
with  tears,  should  be  placed  in  the  ground  with 
the  strutting  pomp  of  grief?  Knowing  nothing 
at  all  of  things  like  this,  how  could  they  know 
that  this  shabby  burying-ground  upon  which 
they  had  strayed  was  so  unlike  that  one  which, 
in  clear  sight  some  distance  away,  was  ordered 
in  walks  and  drive-ways  and  ornamented  with 
hedges,  and  fountains,  and  statues,  and  rare 
plants,  and  costly  monuments — ah,  my  friends, 
how,  without  money,  may  we  give  adequate 

2  17 


THE   RESURRECTION   OF 

expression  to  grief?  And  surely  grief  without 
evidence  of  its  existence  is  the  idlest  of  indul 
gences  ! 

But  there  was  no  pomp  in  the  shadow  of  the 
oak,  for  the  broken  fence  setting  apart  this 
place  from  the  influence  of  Christian  civiliza 
tion  enclosed  graves  holding  only  such  bones 
as  could  not  rest  easy  in  soil  across  which  was 
flung  the  shadow  of  the  cross.  Romulus  and 
Moses  knew  nothing  of  these  things ;  knew 
nothing  of  laws  prohibiting  disinterment  within 
two  years  ;  knew  nothing  of  a  strange,  far-away 
people  from  Asia,  who,  scorning  the  foreign 
Christian  soil  upon  which  they  walked,  despis 
ing  the  civilization  out  of  which  they  wrung 
money,  buried  their  dead  in  obedience  to  law 
which  they  had  not  the  strength  to  resist,  and 
two  years  afterwards  dug  up  the  bones  and  sent 
them  to  the  old  home  to  be  interred  for  ever 
lasting  rest  in  the  soil  made  and  nourished  by 
a  god  of  their  own. 

Should  either  Romulus  or  Moses  judge  be 
tween  these  peoples  ?  They  were  in  better 
business  than  that. 

Their  examination  of  a  strange  brick  furnace 

in  which  printed  prayers  were  burned,  and  of 

a  low  brick  altar  covered  with  the  grease  of 

used-up  tapers,  had  hardly  been  finished  when 

18 


LITTLE  WANG   TAI 

an  approaching  cloud  of  dust  along  the  broken 
fence  warned  them  to  the  exercise  of  caution. 
Romulus  was  the  quicker  to  escape,  for  a  circus- 
train  makes  a  trail  of  dust  along  the  road,  and 
with  swift  alacrity  he  sprang  into  the  boughs 
of  the  oak,  the  heavy  Moses  clambering  labo 
riously  after,  emitting  guffaws  in  praise  of  the 
superior  agility  of  his  guardian.  It  made  Moses 
laugh  again  to  see  the  little  hairy  man  stretch 
himself  on  a  branch  and  sigh  with  the  luxurious 
comfort  of  repose,  and  he  nearly  had  fallen 
in  trying  to  imitate  the  nimble  Romulus.  But 
they  were  still  and  silent  when  the  cloud  of 
dust,  parting  at  a  gate,  gave  forth  into  the 
enclosure  a  small  cavalcade  of  carriages  and 
wagons. 

There  was  a  grave  newly  dug,  and  towards 
this  came  the  procession, — a  shallow  grave,  for 
one  must  not  lie  too  deep  in  the  Christian  soil 
of  the  white  barbarian, — but  it  was  so  small  a 
grave  !  Even  Romulus  could  have  filled  it, 
and,  as  for  Moses,  it  was  hardly  too  large  for 
his  feet. 

For  little  Wang  Tai  was  dead,  and  in  this 
small  grave  were  her  fragile  bones  to  rest  for 
twenty-four  months  under  three  feet  of  Chris 
tian  law.  Interest  tempered  the  fright  which 
Romulus  and  Moses  felt  when  from  the  forward 
19 


THE   RESURRECTION   OF 

carriage  came  the  sound  of  rasping  oboes,  belly- 
less  fiddles,  brazen  tom-toms,  and  harsh 
cymbals,  playing  a  dirge  for  little  Wang  Tai  ; 
playing  less  for  godly  protection  of  her  tiny 
soul  than  for  its  exemption  from  the  torture 
of  devils. 

With  the  others  there  came  forth  a  little 
woman  all  bent  with  grief  and  weeping,  for 
little  Wang  Tai  had  a  mother,  and  every 
mother  has  a  mother's  heart.  She  was  only 
a  little  yellow  woman  from  Asia,  with  queer 
wide  trousers  for  skirts  and  rocker-soled  shoes 
that  flapped  against  her  heels.  Her  uncovered 
black  hair  was  firmly  knotted  and  securely 
pinned,  and  her  eyes  were  black  of  color  and 
soft  of  look,  and  her  face,  likely  blank  in  con 
tent,  was  wet  with  tears  and  drawn  with  suffer 
ing.  And  there  sat  upon  her,  like  a  radiance 
from  heaven,  the  sweetest,  the  saddest,  the 
deepest,  the  tenderest  of  all  human  afflictions, 
— the  one  and  the  only  one  that  time  can 
never  heal. 

So  they  interred  little  Wang  Tai,  and  Rom 
ulus  and  Moses  saw  it  all,  and  paper  prayers 
were  burned  in  the  oven,  and  tapers  were 
lighted  at  the  altar ;  and  for  the  refreshment 
of  the  angels  that  should  come  to  bear  little 
Wang  Tai's  soul  to  the  farther  depths  of  blue 
20 


LITTLE   WANG   TAI 

heaven  some  savory  viands  were  spread  upon 
the  grave.  The  grave  filled,  the  diggers  hid 
their  spades  behing  the  oven,  Romulus  watch 
ing  them  narrowly.  The  little  bent  woman 
gathered  her  grief  to  her  heart  and  bore  it 
away ;  and  a  cloud  of  dust,  widening  away 
alongside  the  broken  fence,  disappeared  in  the 
distance.  The  dome  of  Mount  Hamilton  had 
changed  from  copper  to  gold ;  the  purple  can 
yons  of  the  Santa  Cruz  Mountains  looked  cold 
against  the  blazing  orange  of  the  western 
sky  ;  the  crickets  set  up  their  cheerful  notes 
in  the  great  old  oak,  and  night  fell  softly  as  a 
dream. 

Four  hungry  eyes  saw  the  viands  of  the 
grave,  and  four  greedy  nostrils  inhaled  the  aro 
ma.  Down  dropped  Romulus,  and  with  less 
skill  down  fell  Moses.  Little  Wang  Tai's 
angels  must  go  supperless  to  heaven  this  night 
—  and  it  is  a  very  long  road  from  Christendom 
to  heaven !  The  two  outlaws  snatched,  and 
scrambled,  and  fought,  and  when  all  of  this 
little  was  eaten  they  set  their  minds  to  other 
enterprises.  Romulus  fetched  the  spades  and 
industriously  began  to  dig  into  Wang  Tai's 
grave,  and  Moses,  crowing  and  laughing,  fell 
to  as  assistant,  and  as  the  result  of  their  labor 
the  earth  flew  to  either  side.  Only  three  feet 

21 


THE   RESURRECTION   OF 

of  loose  Christian  law  covered   little  Wang 
Tai! 

******* 
A  small  yellow  woman,  moaning  with  grief, 
had  tossed  all  night  on  her  hard  bed  of  mat 
ting  and  her  harder  pillow  of  hollowed  wood. 
Even  the  familiar  raucous  sounds  of  early 
morning  in  the  Chinese  quarter  of  San  Jose, 
remindful  of  that  far-distant  country  which 
held  all  of  her  heart  not  lying  dead  under 
Christian  sod,  failed  to  lighten  the  burden 
which  sat  upon  her.  She  saw  the  morning  sun 
push  its  way  through  a  sea  of  amber  and  the 
nickel  dome  of  the  great  observatory  on  Mount 
Hamilton  standing  ebony  against  the  radiant 
East.  She  heard  the  Oriental  jargon  of  the 
early  hucksters  who  cried  their  wares  in  the 
ill-smelling  alleys,  and  with  tears  she  added 
to  the  number  of  pearls  which  the  dew  had 
strewn  upon  the  porch.  She  was  only  a  small 
yellow  woman  from  Asia,  all  bent  with  grief; 
and  what  of  happiness  could  there  be  for  her 
in  the  broad  sunshine  which  poured  forth  from 
the  windows  of  heaven,  inviting  the  living 
babies  of  all  present  mankind  to  find  life  and 
health  in  its  luxurious  enfolding  ?  She  saw  the 
sun  climb  the  skies  with  imperious  magnifi 
cence,  and  whispering  voices  from  remote 

22 


LITTLE   WANG   TAI 

Cathay  tempered  the  radiance  of  the  day  with 
memories  of  the  past. 

Could  you,  had  your  hearts  been  break 
ing  and  your  eyes  blinded  with  tears,  have 
seen  with  proper  definition  the  figures  of  a 
strange  procession  which  made  its  way  along 
the  alley  under  the  porch  ?  There  were  white 
men  with  three  prisoners — three  who  so  re 
cently  had  tested  the  sweets  of  freedom,  and 
they  had  been  dragged  back  to  servitude.  Two 
of  these  had  been  haled  from  the  freedom  of 
life  and  one  from  the  freedom  of  death,  and 
all  three  had  been  found  fast  asleep  in  the 
early  morning  beside  the  open  grave  and  empty 
coffin  of  little  Wang  Tai.  There  were  wise 
men  abroad,  and  they  said  that  little  Wang  Tai, 
through  imperfect  medical  skill,  had  been  in 
terred  alive,  and  that  Romulus  and  Moses,  by 
means  of  their  impish  pranks,  had  brought  her 
to  life  after  raising  her  from  the  grave.  But 
wherefore  the  need  of  all  this  talk?  Is  it  not 
enough  that  these  two  brigands  were  whipped 
and  sent  back  into  servitude,  and  that  when 
the  little  yellow  woman  from  Asia  had  gath 
ered  her  baby  to  her  breast  the  windows  of 
her  soul  were  opened  to  receive  the  warmth 
of  the  yellow  sunshine  that  poured  in  a  flood 
from  heaven  ? 

23 


The  Hero  of  the  Plague 

I 

ON  a  sweltering  July  day  a  long  and  un 
gainly  shadow,  stretching  thirty  feet 
upon  the  ground,  crept  noiselessly  up  an  ave 
nue  leading  to  a  fashionable  hotel  at  a  great 
summer  resort.  The  sun  was  setting,  and  its 
slanting  rays  caused  the  shadow  to  assume  the 
appearance  of  an  anamorphosis  of  ludicrous 
proportions.  It  was  a  timid  shadow — perhaps 
a  shadow  of  strange  and  unnerving  experiences. 
The  original  of  it  was  worthy  of  study. 
He  was  a  short,  stout,  stoop-shouldered  man ; 
his  hair  was  ragged  and  dusty,  his  beard  strag 
gling  and  scant.  His  visible  clothing  consisted 
of  a  slouch  hat,  torn  around  the  rim  and  cov 
ered  with  dust;  a  woollen  shirt;  a  pair  of  very 
badly  soiled  cotton  trousers ;  suspenders  made 
of  rawhide  strips,  fastened  to  his  trousers  with 
wooden  pins,  and  the  strangest  of  old  boots, 
which  turned  high  up  at  the  toes  like  canoes 
(being  much  too  long  for  his  feetj,  and  which 
had  a  rakish  aspect. 

24 


THE   HERO   OF   THE   PLAGUE 

The  man's  face  was  a  protest  against  hilar 
ity.  Apparently  he  had  all  the  appurtenances 
of  natural  manhood,  yet  his  whole  expression 
would  have  at  once  aroused  sympathy,  for  it 
was  a  mixture  of  childishness,  confidence, 
timidity,  humility,  and  honesty.  His  look 
was  vague  and  uncertain,  and  seemed  to  be 
searching  hopelessly  for  a  friend— for  the 
guidance  of  natures  that  were  stronger  and 
minds  that  were  clearer.  He  could  not  have 
been  older  than  thirty-five  years,  and  yet  his 
hair  and  beard  were  gray,  and  his  face  was 
lined  with  wrinkles.  Occasionally  he  would 
make  a  movement  as  if  to  ward  off  a  sudden 
and  vicious  blow. 

He  carried  a  knotty  stick,  and  his  ample 
trousers-pockets  were  filled  to  such  an  extent 
that  they  made  him  appear  very  wide  in  the 
hips  and  very  narrow  in  the  shoulders.  Their 
contents  were  a  mystery.  The  pockets  at 
least  produced  the  good  effecl:  of  toning  down 
the  marvellous  ellipticity  of  his  legs,  and  in 
doing  this  they  performed  a  valuable  ser 
vice. 

"  Hullo  !  who  are  you  ?"  gruffly  demanded  a 
porter  employed  in  the  hotel,  as  the  disrepu 
table-looking  man  was  picking  his  way  with 
great  nicety  up  the  broad  interior  stairs,  afraid 
25 


THE    HERO   OF   THE   PLAGUE 

that  his  dusty  boots  would  deface  the  polished 
brasses  under  foot. 

"  Baker,"  promptly  replied  the  man,  in  a 
small,  timid  voice,  coming  to  a  halt  and  hum 
bly  touching  his  hat. 

"  Baker?     Well,  what's  your  other  name?" 

"Mine?" 

"  Yes,  yours." 

The  stranger  was  evidently  puzzled  by  the 
question.  He  looked  vacantly  around  the 
ceiling  until  his  gaze  rested  upon  a  glass  chan 
delier  above  him  ;  but,  finding  no  assistance 
there,  his  glance  wandered  to  an  oriel,  in 
which  there  was  a  caged  mocking-bird. 

"Jess  Baker — that's  all,"  he  answered  at 
last,  in  his  thin  voice  and  slow,  earnest  manner. 

"  What !  don't  know  your  other  name  ?" 

"  No,  I  reckin  not,"  said  Baker,  after  a 
thoughtful  pause.  "  I  reckin  it's  jess  Baker — 
that's  all." 

"  Didn't  they  ever  call  you  anything  else  ?" 

"  Me  ?" 

"  Yes,  you." 

Again  Baker  looked  helplessly  around  until 
he  found  the  chandelier,  and  then  his  eyes 
sought  the  oriel.  Then  he  started  as  if  he 
had  received  a  blow,  and  immediately  reached 
down  and  felt  his  ankles. 


THE   HERO    OF   THE   PLAGUE 

"  Yes,  sir,"  he  answered. 

"  What  was  it  ?" 

"  Hunder'd'n  One,"  he  quietly  said,  looking 
at  his  questioner  with  a  shade  of  fear  and  sus 
picion  in  his  face. 

The  porter  believed  that  a  lunatic  stood  be 
fore  him.  He  asked : 

"  Where  are  you  from  ?" 

"  Georgy." 

"  What  part  of  Georgia  ?" 

Again  was  Baker  at  sea,  and  again  did  his 
glance  seek  the  chandelier  and  the  oriel. 

"  Me  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  you.  What  part  of  Georgia  are  you 
from  ?" 

"Jess  Georgy,"  he  finally  said. 

"  What  do  you  want  here  ?" 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you.  I  want  you  to  hire 
me,"  he  replied,  with  a  faint  look  of  expeft- 
ancy. 

"  What  can  you  do  ?" 

"  Me  ?" 

"  Yes,  you." 

"Oh,  well,  I'll  tell  you.  Most  every 
thing." 

««  What  salary  do  you  want  ?" 

«  Me  ?" 

"  Of  course  you." 

27 


THE   HERO   OF   THE    PLAGUE 

"  Want  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Oh,  well,  about  five  dollars  a  day,  I 
reckin." 

The  porter  laughed  coarsely.  "  You 
needn't  talk  to  me  about  it,"  he  said  ;  "  I'm 
not  the  proprietor." 

"  The  which  ?"  asked  Baker. 

"  The  boss." 

"  Oh,  ain't  you  ?"  and  then  he  looked  very 
much  puzzled  indeed. 

The  porter  had  had  sufficient  amusement, 
and  so  he  demanded,  in  a  brusque  and  menac 
ing  tone,  "  Now,  say — you  get  away  from  here 
quick  !  We  don't  want  no  crazy  tramps  around 
here.  You  understand  ?" 

Baker  did  not  stir,  but  stood  looking  help 
lessly  at  the  porter,  surprised  and  grieved. 

"  Get  out,  I  say,  or  I'll  set  the  dogs  on  you  !" 

A  look  of  deep  mortification  settled  on 
Baker's  face,  but  he  was  not  frightened  ;  he 
did  not  move  a  muscle,  except  to  glance 
quickly  around  for  the  dogs. 

"  Ain't  you  going,  you  crazy  old  tramp  ? 
If  you  don't  I'll  lock  you  up  and  send  for  the 
sheriff;"  and  the  porter  rattled  some  keys  in 
his  pocket. 

Instantly  a  great  horror  overspread  the 
28 


THE   HERO   OF   THE   PLAGUE 

countenance  of  Baker  from  Georgia.  He 
looked  wildly  about  and  seemed  ready  to  run, 
and  labored  with  an  imaginary  weight  that 
clung  to  his  ankles.  He  took  a  single  step  in 
his  agitation,  and  suddenly  realized  that  no 
such  encumbrance  detained  him.  He  shook 
off  the  delusion  and  sprang  to  the  bottom  of 
the  stairs.  His  whole  appearance  had  changed. 
Humility  had  given  way  to  uncontrollable 
fear,  and  he  had  become  a  fleeing  wild  beast 
that  was  hunted  for  its  life.  He  sprang 
through  the  outer  door  and  reached  the  ground 
in  another  bound,  and  gathered  his  strength 
for  immediate  flight  from  terrors  without  a 
name. 

"  Stop,  there  !"  called  a  stern,  full  voice. 

Baker  obeyed  instantly ;  obeyed  as  might  a 
man  long  accustomed  to  the  most  servile  obe 
dience  ;  as  might  a  dog  that  has  been  beaten 
until  his  spirit  is  broken.  He  bared  his  head, 
and  stood  in  the  warm  glow  of  the  fading 
light,  meek  and  submissive.  All  signs  of  fear 
had  disappeared  from  his  face ;  but  he  was  no 
longer  the  Baker  from  Georgia  who,  a  few 
minutes  ago,  had  trudged  along  the  gravelled 
walk  after  the  ungainly  shadow.  He  had 
sought  a  thing  and  had  not  found  it — had  bit 
ten  a  rosy  apple  and  was  choked  with  dust. 
29 


THE    HERO    OF   THE   PLAGUE 

Even  the  rakish  boots  looked  submissive,  and 
showed  their  brass  teeth  in  solemn  acquies 
cence  to  an  inevitability  ;  and  somehow  they 
looked  not  nearly  so  rakish  as  formerly. 

The  voice  that  had  checked  Baker  had  not 
a  kindly  tone;  it  was  that  of  a  suspicious  man, 
who  believed  that  he  had  detected  a  thief  in 
the  aft  of  making  off  with  dishonest  booty 
stored  in  ample  pockets.  Yet  his  face  had  a 
generous  look,  though  anger  made  his  eyes 
harsh.  The  two  men  surveyed  each  other, 
anger  disappearing  from  the  face  of  one  to 
give  place  to  pity,  the  other  regarding  him 
with  mild  docility. 

"  Come  along  with  me,"  said  the  gentleman 
to  Baker. 

Evidently  Baker  had  heard  those  words  be 
fore,  for  he  followed  quietly  and  tamely,  with 
his  dusty  old  hat  in  his  left  hand  and  his  head 
bowed  upon  his  breast.  He  walked  so  slowly 
that  the  gentleman  turned  to  observe  him,  and 
found  him  moving  laboriously,  with  his  feet 
wide  apart  and  his  right  hand  grasping  an 
invisible  something  that  weighted  down  his 
ankles.  They  were  now  passing  the  end  of 
the  hotel  on  their  way  to  the  rear,  when  they 
came  near  a  hitching-post,  to  which  rings 
were  affixed  with  staples.  Baker  had  been 
30 


THE   HERO   OF   THE   PLAGUE 

looking  around  for  something,  and,  as  the 
gentleman  (who  was  Mr.  Clayton,  the  pro 
prietor  of  the  hotel)  stopped  near  the  post, 
Baker  walked  straight  up  to  it,  without  having 
looked  to  the  left  or  the  right.  Upon  reach 
ing  it  he  dropped  the  invisible  something  that 
he  carried  in  his  right  hand,  laid  his  hat  on 
the  ground,  slipped  the  rawhide  suspenders 
from  his  shoulders,  unbuttoned  his  shirt, 
pulled  it  over  his  head,  and  laid  it  on  the  grass 
alongside  his  hat.  He  then  humbly  embraced 
the  post  and  crossed  his  hands  over  a  ring  to 
which  a  chain  was  attached.  He  laid  his 
cheek  against  his  bare  right  arm  and  waited 
patiently,  without  having  uttered  a  protest  or 
made  an  appeal.  The  old  boots  looked  up 
wistfully  into  his  sorrowing  face. 

His  naked  back  glistened  white.  It  was  a 
map  on  which  were  traced  a  record  of  the 
bloody  cruelties  of  many  years  ;  it  was  a  fine 
piece  of  mosaic — human  flesh  inlaid  with  the 
venom  of  the  lash.  There  were  scars,  and 
seams,  and  ridges,  and  cuts  that  crossed  and 
recrossed  each  other  in  all  possible  directions. 
Thus  stood  Baker  for  some  time,  until  Mr. 
Clayton  kindly  called  to  him  : 

"  Put  on  your  shirt." 

He   proceeded    to    obey   silently,   but  was 


THE   HERO    OF   THE   PLAGUE 

confused  and  embarrassed  at  this  unexpected 
turn  of  events.  He  hesitated  at  first,  how 
ever,  for  he  evidently  did  not  understand  how 
he  could  put  on  his  shirt  until  his  hands  had 
been  released. 

"  Your  hands  are  not  chained,"  explained 
Mr.  Clayton. 

The  revelation  was  so  unexpected  that  it 
almost  -startled  the  man  from  Georgia.  He 
pulled  out  one  hand  slowly,  that  a  sudden  jerk 
might  not  lacerate  his  wrist.  Then  he  pulled 
out  the  other,  resumed  his  shirt  and  hat,  picked 
up  the  imaginary  weight,  and  shuffled  along 
slowly  after  his  leader. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?"  asked  the  gentle 
man. 

"  Hunder'd'n  One." 

They  were  soon  traversing  the  corridor  in 
the  servants'  quarter  of  the  hotel,  when  Baker 
halted  and  ventured  to  say  : 

"  I  reckin  you'r  in  the  wrong  curryder." 
He  was  examining  the  ceiling,  the  floor,  and 
the  numbers  on  the  doors. 

"No,  this'is  right,"  said  the  gentleman. 

Again   Baker    hobbled  along,   never  releas 
ing  his  hold  on  the   invisible  weight.     They 
halted  at  No.  13.     Said   Baker,  with  a  shade 
of  pity  in  his  voice, — 
32 


THE   HERO   OF   THE   PLAGUE 

"  'Taint  right.  Wrong  cunyder.  Cell  hun- 
der'd'n  one's  mine." 

"  Yes,  yes ;  but  we'll  put  you  in  this  one 
for  the  present,"  replied  the  gentleman,  as  he 
opened  the  door  and  ushered  Baker  within. 
The  room  was  comfortably  furnished,  and  this 
perplexed  Baker  more  and  more. 

"  Hain't  you  got  it  wrong  ?"  he  persisted. 
"  Lifer,  you  know.  Hunder'd'n  One — lifer — 
plays  off  crazy — forty  lashes  every  Monday. 
Don't  you  know  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know  ;  but  we'll  not  talk  about 
that  now." 

They  brought  a  good  supper  to  his  room, 
and  he  ate  ravenously.  They  persuaded  him 
to  wash  in  a  basin  in  the  room,  though  he 
begged  hard  to  be  permitted  to  go  to  the 
pump.  Later  that  night  the  gentleman  went 
to  his  room  and  asked  him  if  he  wanted  any 
thing. 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you.  You  forgot  to  take  it 
off,"  Baker  replied,  pointing  to  his  ankles. 

The  gentleman  was  perplexed  for  a  mo 
ment,  and  then  he  stooped  and  unlocked  and 
removed  an  imaginary  ball  and  chain.  Baker 
seemed  relieved.  Said  the  gentleman,  as  Baker 
was  preparing  for  bed  : 

"  This  is  not  a  penitentiary.  It  is  my 
3  33 


THE   HERO   OF   THE   PLAGUE 

house,  and  I  do  not  whip  anybody.  I  will 
give  you  all  you  want  to  eat,  and  good  clothes, 
and  you  may  go  wherever  you  please.  Do  you 
understand  ?" 

Baker  looked  at  him  with  vacant  eyes  and 
made  no  reply.  He  undressed,  lay  down, 
sighed  wearily,  and  fell  asleep. 

II. 

A  stifling  Southern  September  sun  beat 
down  upon  the  mountains  and  valleys.  The 
thrush  and  the  mocking-bird  had  been  driven 
to  cool  places,  and  their  songs  were  not  heard 
in  the  trees.  The  hotel  was  crowded  with 
refugees  from  Memphis.  A  terrible  scourge 
was  sweeping  through  Tennessee,  and  its 
black  shadow  was  creeping  down  to  the  Gulf 
of  Mexico ;  and  as  it  crept  it  mowed  down 
young  and  old  in  its  path. 

"  Well,  Baker,  how  are  you  getting  along  ?" 
It  was  the  round,  cheerful  voice  of  Mr.  Clay 
ton. 

The  man  from  Georgia  was  stooping  over  a 
pail,  scouring  it  with  sand  and  a  cloth.  Upon 
hearing  the  greeting  he  hung  the  cloth  over 
the  pail  and  came  slowly  to  the  perpendicular, 
putting  his  hands,  during  the  operation,  upon 
the  small  of  his  back,  as  if  the  hinges  in 
34 


THE   HERO   OF   THE   PLAGUE 

that   region  were  old  and   rusty  and    needed 
care. 

"Oh,  well,  now,  I'll  tell  you.  Nothin' 
pertickler  to  complain  on,  excep' " 

"  Well  ?" 

"  I  don't  believe  it's  quite  exaftly  right." 

"  Tell  me  about  it." 

"  Well,  now,  you  see — there  ain't  nobody 
a-listenin',  is  there  ?" 

"  No." 

"  I  think  they  ought  to  give  me  one  more 
piece,  any  way." 

"  Piece  of  what  ?" 

"  Mebbe  two  more  pieces." 

"  Of  what  ?" 

"  Pie.  It  was  pie  I  was  a-talkin'  about  all 
the  time." 

"  Don't  they  give  you  sufficient  ?" 

"  Pie  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  No,  sir  ;  not  nigh  enough.  An' — an' — 
come  here  closter.  I'm  a-gittin'  weak — I'm 
a-starvin'  !"  he  whispered. 

"  You  shall  not  starve.  What  do  you 
want  ?" 

"  Well,  now,  I  was  jess  a-thinkin'  that  one 
or  two  more  pieces  fur  dinner  every  day — 

every  day " 

35 


THE   HERO   OF   THE   PLAGUE 

"  Pie  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  pie.  I  was  a-talkin*  about 
pie." 

"  You  shall  certainly  have  it ;  but  don't 
they  give  you  any  ?" 

"  What  ?     Pie  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Oh,  well,  they  do  give  me  some.'* 

"  Every  day  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir;  every  day." 

"  How  much  do  they  give  you  ?" 

"  Pie  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you.  About  two  pieces,  I 
believe." 

"  Aren't  you  afraid  that  much  more  than 
that  would  make  you  sick  ?" 

"  Oh,  well,  now,  I'm  a-goin'  to  tell  you 
about  that,  too,  'cause  you  don't  know  about 
it.  You  see,  I'm  mostly  used  to  gittin'  sick, 
an'  I  ain't  mostly  used  to  eatin'  of  pie."  He 
spoke  then,  as  he  always  spoke,  with  the  most 
impressive  earnestness. 

Baker  had  undergone  a  great  change  within 
the  two  months  that  had  passed  over  him  at 
the  hotel.  Kindness  had  driven  away  the 
vacant  look  in  his  eyes  and  his  mind  was 
stronger.  He  had  found  that  for  which  his 
36 


THE   HERO   OF   THE    PLAGUE 

meagre  soul  had  yearned — a  sympathizing 
heart  and  a  friend.  He  was  fat,  sleek,  and 
strong.  His  old  boots — the  same  as  of  yore, 
for  he  would  not  abandon  them — looked  less 
foolish  and  seemed  almost  cheerful.  Were 
they  not  always  in  an  atmosphere  of  gentle 
ness  and  refinement,  and  did  they  not  daily 
tread  the  very  ground  pressed  by  the  bravest 
and  richest  boots  in  the  land  ?  It  is  true  that 
they  were  often  covered  with  slops  and  chick 
ens'  feathers,  but  this  served  only  to  bring  out 
in  bolder  relief  the  elevating  influences  of  a 
healthy  morality  and  a  generous  prosperity 
that  environed  them.  There  are  many  boots 
that  would  have  been  spoiled  by  so  sudden  an 
elevation  into  a  higher  sphere  of  life  ;  but  the 
good  traits  of  Baker's  boots  were  strengthened 
not  only  by  a  rooting  up  of  certain  weaknesses, 
but  also  by  the  gaining  of  many  good  qualities 
which  proved  beneficial ;  and  to  the  full  extent 
of  their  limited  capability  did  they  appreciate 
the  advantages  which  their  surroundings  af 
forded,  and  looked  up  with  humble  gratitude 
whenever  they  would  meet  a  friend. 

There  were  six  hundred  guests  at  the  hotel, 
and  they  all  knew  Baker  and  had  a  kind  word 
to  give  him.     But  they  could  never  learn  any 
thing  about  him  other  than  that  his  name  was 
37 


THE   HERO   OF   THE   PLAGUE 

Baker— "jess  Baker,  that's  all"— and  that  he 
came  from  Georgia  —"jess  Georgy."  Occa 
sionally  a  stranger  would  ask  him  with  urgent 
particularity  concerning  his  past  history,  but 
he  then  would  merely  look  helpless  and  puz 
zled  and  would  say  nothing.  As  to  his  name, 
it  was  "jess  Baker;"  but  on  rare  occasions, 
when  pressed  with  hard  cruelty,  his  lips  could 
be  seen  to  form  the  words,  "  Hunder'd'n 
One,"  as  though  wondering  how  they  would 
sound  if  he  should  utter  them,  and  then  the 
old  blank,  suffering  look  would  come  into  his 
face.  It  had  become  quite  seldom  that  he 
dodged  an  imaginary  blow,  and  the  memory 
of  the  ball  and  chain  was  buried  with  other 
bitter  recollections  of  the  past.  He  had  free 
access  to  every  part  of  the  house,  and  was  dis 
creet,  diligent,  faithful,  and  honest.  Some 
times  the  porters  would  impose  upon  his  un 
failing  willingness  and  great  strength  by  making 
him  carry  the  heaviest  trunks  up  three  or  four 
flights  of  stairs. 

One  day  the  shadow  of  death  that  was 
stealing  southward  passed  over  the  house  con 
taining  so  much  life,  and  happiness,  and  wealth, 
and  beauty.  The  train  passed  as  usual,  and 
among  the  passengers  who  alighted  was  a 
man  who  walked  to  the  counter  in  a  weary, 
38 


THE   HERO   OF   THE   PLAGUE 

uncertain  manner.  One  or  two  persons  were 
present  who  knew  him,  and  upon  grasping  his 
hand  they  found  that  it  was  cold.  This  was 
strange,  for  the  day  was  very  hot.  In  his 
eyes  was  a  look  of  restlessness  and  anxiety,  but 
he  said  that  he  had  only  a  pain  across  the 
forehead,  and  that  after  needed  rest  it  would 
pass  away.  He  was  conducted  to  a  room,  and 
there  he  fell  across  the  bed,  quite  worn  out, 
he  said.  He  complained  of  slight  cramps  in 
the  legs  and  thought  that  they  had  been  caused 
by  climbing  the  stairs.  After  a  half-hour  had 
passed  he  rang  his  bell  violently  and  sent  for 
the  resident  physician.  That  gentleman  went 
to  see  him,  and  after  remaining  a  few  minutes 
went  to  the  office,  looking  anxious  and  pale. 
He  was  a  tall,  quiet  man,  with  white  hair. 
He  asked  for  Mr.  Clayton,  but  when  he  was 
informed  that  that  gentleman  was  temporarily 
absent  he  asked  for  Baker. 

"  Is  your  patient  very  ill,  do&or  ?"  inquired 
the  cashier,  privately  and  with  a  certain  dread. 

"  I  want  Baker,"  said  the  do&or,  somewhat 
shortly. 

"  Nothing  serious,  I  hope." 

«'  Send  me  Baker  instantly." 

The  physician  had  a  secret  of  life  and 
death.  To  treat  it  wisely  he  required  confi- 
,39 


THE   HERO   OF   THE    PLAGUE 

dants  of  courage,  sagacity,  patience,  ta£t,  and 
prompt  aftion.  There  were  only  two  to 
whom  he  should  impart  it, — one  was  the  pro 
prietor  and  the  other  the  man  from  Georgia. 

When  Baker  had  come  the  physician  led 
him  up-stairs  to  the  floor  which  held  the  pa 
tient's  room,  brought  him  to  the  window  at 
the  end  of  the  corridor  and  turned  him  so 
that  the  light  fell  full  upon  his  face. 

"  Baker,  can  you  keep  a  secret  ?" 

"  Me  ?" 

"  Yes ;  can  you  keep  a  secret  ?" 

"  Well,  let  me  tell  you  about  it ;  I  don't 
know  ;  mebbe  I  can." 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  people  die  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir!" 

"  A  great  many  in  the  same  house  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  yes,  sir." 

"  Baker,"  said  the  physician,  placing  his 
hand  gently  on  the  broad  shoulder  before  him, 
and  looking  the  man  earnestly  in  the  eyes,  and 
speaking  very  impressively — "  Baker,  are  you 
afraid  to  die  ?  " 

"  Me  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Die  ?" 

"  Yes." 

There  was  no  expression  whatever  upon 
40 


THE   HERO   OF   THE    PLAGUE 

his  patient,  gentle  face.  He  gazed  past  the 
physician  through  the  window  and  made  no 
reply. 

"  Are  you  afraid  of  death,  Baker  ?" 

"  Who  ?     Me  ?" 

"  Yes." 

There  was  no  sign  that  he  would  answer 
the  question  or  even  that  he  comprehended  it. 
He  shifted  his  gaze  to  his  upturned  boot-toes 
and  communed  with  them,  but  still  kept  si 
lence. 

"  There  is  a  man  here,  Baker,  who  is  very 
ill,  and  I  think  that  he  will  die.  I  want  some 
one  to  help  me  take  care  of  him.  If  you  go 
into  his  room,  perhaps  you,  too,  will  die.  Are 
you  afraid  to  go  ?" 

"  Was  you  a-talkin'  'bout  wantin'  me  to 
wait  on  him  ?" 

«  Yes." 

A  brighter  look  came  into  Baker's  face  and 
he  said  : 

"  Oh,  now,  I'll  tell  you  ;  I'll  go." 

They  entered  the  stranger's  room  and  found 
him  suffering  terribly.  The  physician  already 
had  put  him  under  vigorous  treatment,  but  he 
was  rapidly  growing  worse.  Baker  regarded 
him  attentively  a  moment,  and  then  felt  his 
pulse  and  put  his  hand  on  the  sufferer's  fore- 
41 


THE   HERO    OF   THE    PLAGUE 

head.  A  look  of  intelligence  came  into  his 
sad,  earnest  face,  but  there  was  not  a  trace  of 
pallor  or  fear.  He  beckoned  the  physician  to 
follow  him  out  to  the  passage,  and  the  two 
went  aside,  closing  the  door. 

"  He's  a-goin'  to  die,"  said  Baker,  simply 
and  quietly. 

"  Yes  ;  but  how  do  you  know  ?" 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you  about  that ;  I  know." 

"  Have  you  seen  it  before  ?" 

"  Hunderds." 

"  Are  you  afraid  of  it  ?" 

«  Me  ?" 

«  Yes." 

"  Oh,  well,  they  all  ought  to  know  it,"  he 
said,  with  a  sweep  of  his  hand  towards  the 
corridors. 

"  Hurry  and  find  Mr.  Clayton  first  and 
bring  him  to  me." 

Baker  met  Mr.  Clayton  at  the  main  entrance 
below  and  beckoned  him  to  follow.  He  led 
the  way  into  a  dark  room  stored  with  boxes 
and  then  into  the  farther  corner  of  it.  There 
he  stood  Mr.  Clayton  with  his  back  against 
the  wall  and  looked  straight  into  his  face. 
His  manner  was  so  mysterious,  and  there  was 
so  strange  an  expression  in  his  face, — a  kind 
of  empty  exaltation  it  seemed, — and  his  fa- 
42 


THE   HERO   OF   THE   PLAGUE 

miliarity  in  touching  Mr.  Clayton's  person 
was  so  extraordinary,  that  that  gentleman  was 
alarmed  for  Baker's  sanity.  Then  Baker  leaned 
forward  and  whispered  one  terrible  word, — 

"  Cbolery .'" 

Cholera !  Great  God  !  No  wonder  that 
Mr.  Clayton  turned  deathly  pale  and  leaned 
heavily  against  the  wall. 

At  midnight  the  stranger  died,  and  none  in 
the  house  had  heard  of  the  frightful  danger 
which  had  come  to  assail  them.  The  physi 
cian  and  Baker  had  been  with  him  constantly, 
but  their  efforts  had  availed  nothing ;  and  after 
preparing  him  for  the  grave  they  went  out  and 
locked  the  door.  Mr.  Clayton  was  waiting 
for  them.  The  anxious  look  in  the  faces  of 
the  two  gentlemen  was  intensified ;  Baker's 
evinced  nothing  but  calm  consciousness  of  re 
sponsibility.  The  guests  were  slumbering. 

"  We  must  alarm  the  house,"  whispered 
Mr.  Clayton. 

The  doctor  shook  his  head  sadly.  "  If  we 
do,"  he  said,  "  there  will  be  a  panic ;  and, 
besides,  the  night  air  of  these  mountains  is  very 
cool,  and  if  they  go  from  their  warm  beds  into 
it,  likely  without  taking  time  to  dress,  the  dan 
ger  will  be  great." 

They  both  seemed  helpless  and  undecided, 
43 


THE   HERO   OF   THE   PLAGUE 

and  in  need  of  some  one  to  choose  between 
two  evils  for  them.  They  turned  to  Baker  in 
silence  and  for  his  decision.  He  seemed  to 
have  expected  it,  for  without  a  word,  without 
submitting  it  for  their  concurrence,  he  went  to 
the  end  of  that  passage  and  rapped  upon  a 
door.  There  was  an  answer,  Baker  men 
tioned  his  name,  the  door  was  opened,  and 
the  dreadful  news  was  quietly  imparted.  The 
guest  was  terror-stricken,  but  a  word  from 
Baker  gave  him  heart,  and  he  hastily  but 
quietly  began  preparations  to  leave  the  house. 
Thus  went  Baker  from  one  door  to  another, 
imposing  silence  and  care  and  careful  dressing, 
and  advising  the  people  to  take  with  them 
such  bedding  as  they  could.  Mr.  Clayton  and 
the  physician,  observing  the  remarkable  suc 
cess  of  Baker's  method,  adopted  it,  and  soon 
the  three  men  had  the  great  house  swarming. 
It  was  done  swiftly,  quietly,  and  without 
panic,  and  the  house  became  empty. 

But  selfishness  appeared  without  shame  or 
covering.  Every  one  in  the  house  wanted 
Baker's  assistance,  for  all  the  porters  had  fled, 
and  there  was  none  other  than  he  to  work. 
So  he  staggered  and  toiled  under  the  weight 
of  enormous  trunks ;  listened  to  a  hundred 
orders  at  once ;  bore  frightened  children  and 
44 


THE   HERO   OF   THE   PLAGUE 

fainting  women  in  his  strong,  sure  arms ; 
labored  until  his  face  was  haggard  and  his 
knees  trembled  from  exhaustion.  He  did  the 
work  of  fifty  men — a  hundred  men. 

The  seeds  of  the  plague  had  been  sown. 
Towards  morning  the  physician  retired  to  his 
room,  stricken  down.  Baker  administered  to 
his  needs,  and  discovered  a  surprising  knowl 
edge  of  the  malady  and  its  treatment.  A  few 
of  those  who  had  scattered  about  in  the  sur 
rounding  hills  were  taken  down  and  brought 
to  the  house  moaning  with  fear  and  pain. 
Baker  treated  them  all.  Mr.  Clayton  and  a 
few  other  stout  hearts  provided  him  with 
whatever  he  ordered,  and  assisted  in  watching 
and  in  administering  the  simple  remedies  un 
der  his  direction.  These  were  such  as  the 
resources  of  the  hotel  permitted, — warm  blan 
kets,  hot  brandy,  with  water  and  sugar,  or 
pepper  and  salt  in  hot  water,  heated  bricks  at 
the  feet,  and  rubbing  the  body  with  spirits  of 
camphor.  Many  recovered,  others  grew  worse  ; 
the  physician  was  saved. 

At  sunrise,  while  Baker  was  working  vigor 
ously  on  a  patient,  he  suddenly  straightened 
himself,  looked  around  somewhat  anxiously, 
and  reeled  backward  to  the  wall.  The  strong 
man  had  collapsed  at  last.  Leaning  against 
45 


THE   HERO   OF   THE   PLAGUE 

the  partition,  and  spreading  out  his  arms 
against  it  to  keep  from  falling,  he  worked  his 
way  a  few  feet  to  the  door,  and  when  he  turned 
to  go  out  his  hand  slipped  on  the  door-facing 
and  he  fell  heavily  upon  his  face  in  the  pas 
sage.  He  lay  still  for  a  moment,  and  then 
crawled  slowly  to  the  end  of  the  passage  and 
lay  down.  He  had  not  said  a  word  nor  uttered 
a  groan.  It  was  there,  silent,  alone,  and  un 
complaining,  that  Mr.  Clayton  found  this  last 
viftim  of  the  plague  waiting  patiently  for 
death.  Others  were  hastily  summoned.  They 
put  him  upon  a  bed,  and  were  going  to  undress 
him  and  treat  him,  but  he  firmly  stopped  them 
with  uplifted  hand,  and  his  sunken  eyes  and 
anxious  face  implored  more  eloquently  than  his 
words,  when  he  said  : 

"  No,  no  !  Now,  let  me  tell  you  :  Go  an* 
take  care  of  'em." 

Mr.  Clayton  sent  them  away,  he  alone  re 
maining. 

"  Here,  Baker ;  take  this,"  he  gently  urged. 

But  the  man  from  Georgia  knew  better. 
"No,  no,"  he  said;  "it  won't  do  no  good." 
His  speech  was  faint  and  labored.  "  I'll  tell 
you  :  I'm  struck  too  hard.  It  won't  do  no  good. 
I'm  so  tired.  .  .  .  I'll  go  quick  .  .  .  'cause 
I'm  ...  so  tired." 

46 


THE   HERO   OF   THE   PLAGUE 

His  extreme  exhaustion  made  him  an  easy 
prey.  Death  sat  upon  his  face,  and  was  re- 
flefted  from  his  hollow,  suffering,  mournful 
eyes.  In  an  hour  they  were  dimmer  ;  then  he 
became  cold  and  purple.  In  another  hour  his 
pulse  was  not  perceptible.  After  two  more 
hours  his  agony  had  passed. 

"  Baker,  do  you  want  anything  ?"  asked  Mr. 
Clayton,  trying  to  rouse  him. 

"  Me  ?"  very  faintly  came  .the  response. 

"  Yes.     Do  you  want  anything  ?" 

"  Oh,  .  .  .  I'll  tell  you :  The  governor 
...  he  found  out  my  brother  .  .  .  done  it 
.  .  .  an'  .  .  .  an'  he's  goin'  to  ...  pardon 
me.  .  .  .  Fifteen  years,  an'  played  off  ... 
played  off  crazy.  .  .  .  Forty  lashes  every 
Monday  .  .  .  mornin'.  .  .  .  Cell  hunder'd'n 
one's  mine.  .  .  .  Well,  I'll  tell  you :  Governor's 
goin'  to  ...  pardon  me  out." 

He  ceased  his  struggling  to  speak.  A  half- 
hour  passed  in  silence,  and  then  he  roused  him 
self  feebly  and  whispered : 

"He'll   .   .   .  pardon   .   .   .  me." 

The  old  boots  stared  blankly  and  coldly  at 
the  ceiling ;  their  patient  expression  no  longer 
bore  a  trace  of  life  or  suffering,  and  their  calm 
repose  was  undisturbed  by  the  song  of  the 
mocking-bird  in  the  oriel. 
47 


His  Unconquerable  Enemy 


I  WAS  summoned  from  Calcutta  to  the 
heart  of  India  to  perform  a  difficult  surgi 
cal  operation  on  one  of  the  women  of  a  great 
rajah's  household.  I  found  the  rajah  a  man 
of  a  noble  character,  but  possessed,  as  I  after 
wards  discovered,  of  a  sense  of  cruelty  purely 
Oriental  and  in  contrast  to  the  indolence  of 
his  disposition.  He  was  so  grateful  for  the 
success  that  attended  my  mission  that  he  urged 
me  to  remain  a  guest  at  the  palace  as  long  as 
it  might  please  me  to  stay,  and  I  thankfully 
accepted  the  invitation. 

One  of  the  male  servants  early  attracted  my 
notice  for  his  marvellous  capacity  of  malice. 
His  name  was  Neranya,  and  I  am  certain  that 
there  must  have  been  a  large  proportion  of 
Malay  blood  in  his  veins,  for,  unlike  the  In 
dians  (from  whom  he  differed  also  in  com 
plexion),  he  was  extremely  alert,  adlive, 
nervous,  and  sensitive.  A  redeeming  circum 
stance  was  his  love  for  his  master.  Once  his 
violent  temper  led  him  to  the  commission  of 
48 


HIS   UNCONQUERABLE   ENEMY 

an  atrocious  crime, — the  fatal  stabbing  of  a 
dwarf.  In  punishment  for  this  the  rajah  or 
dered  that  Neranya's  right  arm  (the  offending 
one)  be  severed  from  his  body.  The  sentence 
was  executed  in  a  bungling  fashion  by  a  stupid 
fellow  armed  with  an  axe,  and  I,  being  a 
surgeon,  was  compelled,  in  order  to  save 
Neranya's  life,  to  perform  an  amputation  of 
the  stump,  leaving  not  a  vestige  of  the  limb 
remaining. 

After  this  he  developed  an  augmented  fiend- 
ishness.  His  love  for  the  rajah  was  changed 
to  hate,  and  in  his  mad  anger  he  flung  discre 
tion  to  the  winds.  Driven  once  to  frenzy  by 
the  rajah's  scornful  treatment,  he  sprang  upon 
the  rajah  with  a  knife,  but,  fortunately,  was 
seized  and  disarmed.  To  his  unspeakable 
dismay  the  rajah  sentenced  him  for  this  offence 
to  suffer  amputation  of  the  remaining  arm.  It 
was  done  as  in  the  former  instance.  This 
had  the  effecl:  of  putting  a  temporary  curb  on 
Neranya's  spirit,  or,  rather,  of  changing  the 
outward  manifestations  of  his  diabolism.  Being 
armless,  he  was  at  first  largely  at  the  mercy  of 
those  who  ministered  to  his  needs, — a  duty 
which  I  undertook  to  see  was  properly  dis 
charged,  for  I  felt  an  interest  in  this  strangely 
distorted  nature.  His  sense  of  helplessness, 
4  49 


HIS   UNCONQUERABLE   ENEMY 

combined  with  a  damnable  scheme  for  revenge 
which  he  had  secretly  formed,  caused  Neranya 
to  change  his  fierce,  impetuous,  and  unruly 
conduft  into  a  smooth,  quiet,  insinuating 
bearing,  which  he  carried  so  artfully  as  to 
deceive  those  with  whom  he  was  brought  in 
contadl,  including  the  rajah  himself. 

Neranya,  being  exceedingly  quick,  intelli 
gent,  and  dexterous,  and  having  an  unconquer 
able  will,  turned  his  attention  to  the  cultivat 
ing  of  an  enlarged  usefulness  of  his  legs,  feet, 
and  toes,  with  so  excellent  effeft  that  in  time 
he  was  able  to  perform  wonderful  feats  with 
those  members.  Thus  his  capability,  espe 
cially  for  destructive  mischief,  was  considera 
bly  restored. 

One  morning  the  rajah's  only  son,  a  young 
man  of  an  uncommonly  amiable  and  noble  dis 
position,  was  found  dead  in  bed.  His  murder 
was  a  most  atrocious  one,  his  body  being  mu 
tilated  in  a  shocking  manner,  but  in  my  eyes 
the  most  significant  of  all  the  mutilations  was 
the  entire  removal  and  disappearance  of  the 
young  prince's  arms. 

The  death  of  the  young  man  nearly  brought 

the  rajah  to  the  grave.     It  was  not,  therefore, 

until  I  had  nursed  him  back  to  health  that  I 

began  a  systematic  inquiry  into  the  murder.    I 

5° 


HIS   UNCONQUERABLE   ENEMY 

said  nothing  of  my  own  discoveries  and  con 
clusions  until  after  the  rajah  and  his  officers 
had  failed  and  my  work  had  been  done ;  then 
I  submitted  to  him  a  written  report,  making  a 
close  analysis  of  all  the  circumstances  and 
closing  by  charging  the  crime  to  Neranya. 
The  rajah,  convinced  by  my  proof  and  argu 
ment,  at  once  ordered  Neranya  to  be  put  to 
death,  this  to  be  accomplished  slowly  and 
with  frightful  tortures.  The  sentence  was  so 
cruel  and  revolting  that  it  filled  me  with 
horror,  and  I  implored  that  the  wretch  be 
shot.  Finally,  through  a  sense  of  gratitude  to 
me,  the  rajah  relaxed.  When  Neranya  was 
charged  with  the  crime  he  denied  it,  of  course, 
but,  seeing  that  the  rajah  was  convinced,  he 
threw  aside  all  restraint,  and,  dancing,  laugh 
ing,  and  shrieking  in  the  most  horrible  man 
ner,  confessed  his  guilt,  gloated  over  it,  and 
reviled  the  rajah  to  his  teeth, — this,  knowing 
that  some  fearful  death  awaited  him. 

The  rajah  decided  upon  the  details  of  the 
matter  that  night,  and  in  the  morning  he 
informed  me  of  his  decision.  It  was  that 
Neranya's  life  should  be  spared,  but  that  both 
of  his  legs  should  be  broken  with  hammers, 
and  that  then  I  should  amputate  the  limbs  at 
the  trunk !  Appended  to  this  horrible  sen- 
Si 


HIS   UNCONQUERABLE   ENEMY 

tence  was  a  provision  that  the  maimed  wretch 
should  be  kept  and  tortured  at  regular  inter 
vals  by  such  means  as  afterwards  might  be 
devised. 

Sickened  to  the  heart  by  the  awful  duty  set 
out  for  me,  I  nevertheless  performed  it  with 
success,  and  I  care  to  say  nothing  more  about 
that  part  of  the  tragedy.  Neranya  escaped 
death  very  narrowly  and  was  a  long  time  in 
recovering  his  wonted  vitality.  During  all 
these  weeks  the  rajah  neither  saw  him  nor 
made  inquiries  concerning  him,  but  when,  as 
in  duty  bound,  I  made  official  report  that  the 
man  had  recovered  his  strength,  the  rajah's 
eyes  brightened,  and  he  emerged  with  deadly 
activity  from  the  stupor  into  which  he  so  long 
had  been  plunged. 

The  rajah's  palace  was  a  noble  structure, 
but  it  is  necessary  here  to  describe  only  the 
grand  hall.  It  was  an  immense  chamber,  with 
a  floor  of  polished,  inlaid  stone  and  a  lofty, 
arched  ceiling.  A  soft  light  stole  into  it 
through  stained  glass  set  in  the  roof  and  in 
high  windows  on  one  side.  In  the  middle  of 
the  room  was  a  rich  fountain,  which  threw  up 
a  tall,  slender  column  of  water,  with  smaller 
and  shorter  jets  grouped  around  it.  Across 
one  end  of  the  hall,  half-way  to  the  ceiling, 
52 


HIS   UNCONQUERABLE   ENEMY 

was  a  balcony,  which  communicated  with  the 
upper  story  of  a  wing,  and  from  which  a  flight 
of  stone  stairs  descended  to  the  floor  of  the 
hall.  During  the  hot  summers  this  room  was 
delightfully  cool ;  it  was  the  rajah's  favorite 
lounging-place,  and  when  the  nights  were  hot 
he  had  his  cot  taken  thither,  and  there  he 
slept. 

This  hall  was  chosen  for  Neranya's  perma 
nent  prison ;  here  was  he  to  stay  so  long  as  he 
might  live,  with  never  a  glimpse  of  the  shining 
world  or  the  glorious  heavens.  To  one  of  his 
nervous,  discontented  nature  such  confinement 
was  worse  than  death.  At  the  rajah's  order 
there  was  constructed  for  him  a  small  pen  of 
open  iron-work,  circular,  and  about  four  feet 
in  diameter,  elevated  on  four  slender  iron  posts, 
ten  feet  above  the  floor,  and  placed  between 
the  balcony  and  the  fountain.  Such  was  Ne 
ranya's  prison.  The  pen  was  about  four  feet 
in  depth,  and  the  pen-top  was  left  open  for 
the  convenience  of  the  servants  whose  duty  it 
should  be  to  care  for  him.  These  precautions 
for  his  safe  confinement  were  taken  at  my  sug 
gestion,  for,  although  the  man  was  now  de 
prived  of  all  four  of  his  limbs,  I  still  feared 
that  he  might  develop  some  extraordinary, 
unheard-of  power  for  mischief.  It  was  pro- 
53 


HIS   UNCONQUERABLE   ENEMY 

vided  that  the  attendants  should  reach  his  cage 
by  means  of  a  movable  ladder. 

All  these  arrangements  having  been  made 
and  Neranya  hoisted  into  his  cage,  the  rajah 
emerged  upon  the  balcony  to  see  him  for  the 
first  time  since  the  last  amputation.  Neranya 
had  been  lying  panting  and  helpless  on  the 
floor  of  his  cage,  but  when  his  quick  ear  caught 
the  sound  of  the  rajah's  footfall  he  squirmed 
about  until  he  had  brought  the  back  of  his  head 
against  the  railing,  elevating  his  eyes  above  his 
chest,  and  enabling  him  to  peer  through  the 
open-work  of  the  cage.  Thus  the  two  deadly 
enemies  faced  each  other.  The  rajah's  stern 
face  paled  at  sight  of  the  hideous,  shapeless 
thing  which  met  his  gaze;  but  he  soon  recov 
ered,  and  the  old  hard,  cruel,  sinister  look 
returned.  Neranya's  black  hair  and  beard  had 
grown  long,  and  they  added  to  the  natural 
ferocity  of  his  aspeft.  His  eyes  blazed  upon 
the  rajah  with  a  terrible  light,  his  lips  parted, 
and  he  gasped  for  breath ;  his  face  was  ashen 
with  rage  and  despair,  and  his  thin,  distended 
nostrils  quivered. 

The  rajah  folded  his  arms  and  gazed  down 

from  the  balcony  upon  the  frightful  wreck  that 

he  had  made.     Oh,  the  dreadful  pathos  of  that 

pifture ;   the  inhumanity  of  it ;   the  deep  and 

54 


HIS   UNCONQUERABLE   ENEMY 

dismal  tragedy  of  it !  Who  might  look  into 
the  wild,  despairing  heart  of  the  prisoner  and 
see  and  understand  the  frightful  turmoil  there  ; 
the  surging,  choking  passion  ;  unbridled  but 
impotent  ferocity  ;  frantic  thirst  for  a  vengeance 
that  should  be  deeper  than  hell !  Neranya 
gazed,  his  shapeless  body  heaving,  his  eyes 
aflame ;  and  then,  in  a  strong,  clear  voice, 
which  rang  throughout  the  great  hall,  with 
rapid  speech  he  hurled  at  the  rajah  the  most 
insulting  defiance,  the  most  awful  curses.  He 
cursed  the  womb  that  had  conceived  him,  the 
food  that  should  nourish  him,  the  wealth  that 
had  brought  him  power ;  cursed  him  in  the 
name  of  Buddha  and  all  the  wise  men ;  cursed 
by  the  sun,  the  moon,  and  the  stars ;  by  the 
continents,  mountains,  oceans,  and  rivers ;  by 
all  things  living  ;  cursed  his  head,  his  heart,  his 
entrails ;  cursed  in  a  whirlwind  of  unmention 
able  words ;  heaped  unimaginable  insults  and 
contumely  upon  him ;  called  him  a  knave,  a 
beast,  a  fool,  a  liar,  an  infamous  and  unspeak 
able  coward. 

The  rajah  heard  it  all  calmly,  without  the 
movement  of  a  muscle,  without  the  slightest 
change  of  countenance ;  and  when  the  poor 
wretch  had  exhausted  his  strength  and  fallen 
helpless  and  silent  to  the  floor,  the  rajah, 
55 


HIS   UNCONQUERABLE   ENEMY 

with  a  grim,  cold    smile,  turned    and   strode 
away. 

The  days  passed.  The  rajah,  not  deterred 
by  Neranya's  curses  often  heaped  upon  him, 
spent  even  more  time  than  formerly  in  the 
great  hall,  and  slept  there  oftener  at  night ;  and 
finally  Neranya  wearied  of  cursing  and  defy 
ing  him,  and  fell  into  a  sullen  silence.  The 
man  was  a  study  for  me,  and  I  observed  every 
change  in  his  fleeting  moods.  Generally  his 
condition  was  that  of  miserable  despair,  which 
he  attempted  bravely  to  conceal.  Even  the 
boon  of  suicide  had  been  denied  him,  for  when 
he  would  wriggle  into  an  ereft  position  the  rail 
of  his  pen  was  a  foot  above  his  head,  so  that 
he  could  not  clamber  over  and  break  his  skull 
on  the  stone  floor  beneath  ;  and  when  he  had 
tried  to  starve  himself  the  attendants  forced 
food  down  his  throat ;  so  that  he  abandoned 
such  attempts.  At  times  his  eyes  would  blaze 
and  his  breath  would  come  in  gasps,  for  imagi 
nary  vengeance  was  working  within  him  ;  but 
steadily  he  became  quieter  and  more  tradlable, 
and  was  pleasant  and  responsive  when  I  would 
converse  with  him.  Whatever  might  have 
been  the  tortures  which  the  rajah  had  de 
cided  on,  none  as  yet  had  been  ordered  ;  and 
although  Neranya  knew  that  they  were  in 
56 


HIS   UNCONQUERABLE   ENEMY 

contemplation,  he  never  referred  to  them  or 
complained  of  his  lot. 

The  awful  climax  of  this  situation  was 
reached  one  night,  and  even  after  this  lapse  of 
years  I  cannot  approach  its  description  without 
a  shudder. 

It  was  a  hot  night,  and  the  rajah  had  gone 
to  sleep  in  the  great  hall,  lying  on  a  high  cot 
placed  on  the  main  floor  just  underneath  the 
edge  of  the  balcony.  I  had  been  unable  to 
sleep  in  my  own  apartment,  and  so  I  had  stolen 
into  the  great  hall  through  the  heavily  curtained 
entrance  at  the  end  farthest  from  the  balcony. 
As  I  entered  I  heard  a  peculiar,  soft  sound  above 
the  patter  of  the  fountain.  Neranya's  cage  was 
partly  concealed  from  my  view  by  the  spraying 
water,  but  I  suspefted  that  the  unusual  sound 
came  from  him.  Stealing  a  little  to  one  side, 
and  crouching  against  the  dark  hangings  of  the 
wall,  I  could  see  him  in  the  faint  light  which 
dimly  illuminated  the  hall,  and  then  I  discov 
ered  that  my  surmise  was  correft — Neranya 
was  quietly  at  work.  Curious  to  learn  more, 
and  knowing  that  only  mischief  could  have 
been  inspiring  him,  I  sank  into  a  thick  robe  on 
the  floor  and  watched  him. 

To  my  great  astonishment  Neranya  was 
tearing  off  with  his  teeth  the  bag  which  served 
57 


HIS    UNCONQUERABLE   ENEMY 

as  his  outer  garment.  He  did  it  cautiously, 
casting  sharp  glances  frequently  at  the  rajah, 
who,  sleeping  soundly  on  his  cot  below, 
breathed  heavily.  After  starting  a  strip  with 
his  teeth,  Neranya,  by  the  same  means,  would 
attach  it  to  the  railing  of  his  cage  and  then 
wriggle  away,  much  after  the  manner  of  a  cat 
erpillar's  crawling,  and  this  would  cause  the 
strip  to  be  torn  out  the  full  length  of  his  gar 
ment.  He  repeated  this  operation  with  in 
credible  patience  and  skill  until  his  entire 
garment  had  been  torn  into  strips.  Two  or 
three  of  these  he  tied  end  to  end  with  his 
teeth,  lips,  and  tongue,  tightening  the  knots  by 
placing  one  end  of  the  strip  under  his  body 
and  drawing  the  other  taut  with  his  teeth.  In 
this  way  he  made  a  line  several  feet  long,  one 
end  of  which  he  made  fast  to  the  rail  with  his 
mouth.  It  then  began  to  dawn  upon  me  that 
he  was  going  to  make  an  insane  attempt — im 
possible  of  achievement  without  hands,  feet, 
arms,  or  legs — to  escape  from  his  cage  !  For 
what  purpose  ?  The  rajah  was  asleep  in  the 
hall — ah  !  I  caught  my  breath.  Oh,  the  des 
perate,  insane  thirst  for  revenge  which  could 
have  unhinged  so  clear  and  firm  a  mind  !  Even 
though  he  should  accomplish  the  impossible 
feat  of  climbing  over  the  railing  of  his  cage 
58 


HIS   UNCONQUERABLE   ENEMY 

that  he  might  fall  to  the  floor  below  (for  how 
could  he  slide  down  the  rope  ?),  he  would  be 
in  all  probability  killed  or  stunned  ;  and  even 
if  he  should  escape  these  dangers  it  would  be 
impossible  for  him  to  clamber  upon  the  cot 
without  rousing  the  rajah,  and  impossible  even 
though  the  rajah  were  dead !  Amazed  at  the 
man's  daring,  and  convinced  that  his  suffer 
ings  and  brooding  had  destroyed  his  reason, 
nevertheless  I  watched  him  with  breathless 
interest. 

With  other  strips  tied  together  he  made  a 
short  swing  across  one  side  of  his  cage.  He 
caught  the  long  line  in  his  teeth  at  a  point  not 
far  from  the  rail ;  then,  wriggling  with  great 
effort  to  an  upright  position,  his  back  braced 
against  the  rail,  he  put  his  chin  over  the  swing 
and  worked  toward  one  end.  He  tightened 
the  grasp  of  his  chin  on  the  swing,  and  with 
tremendous  exertion,  working  the  lower  end 
of  his  spine  against  the  railing,  he  began  grad 
ually  to  ascend  the  side  of  his  cage.  The 
labor  was  so  great  that  he  was  compelled  to 
pause  at  intervals,  and  his  breathing  was  hard 
and  painful ;  and  even  while  thus  resting  he  was 
in  a  position  of  terrible  strain,  and  his  push 
ing  against  the  swing  caused  it  to  press  hard 
against  his  windpipe  and  nearly  strangle  him. 
59 


HIS   UNCONQUERABLE   ENEMY 

After  amazing  effort  he  had  elevated  the 
lower  end  of  his  body  until  it  protruded  above 
the  railing,  the  top  of  which  was  now  across 
the  lower  end  of  his  abdomen.  Gradually  he 
worked  his  body  over,  going  backward,  until 
there  was  sufficient  excess  of  weight  on  the 
outer  side  of  the  rail ;  and  then,  with  a  quick 
lurch,  he  raised  his  head  and  shoulders  and 
swung  into  a  horizontal  position  on  top  of  the 
rail.  Of  course,  he  would  have  fallen  to  the 
floor  below  had  it  not  been  for  the  line  which 
he  held  in  his  teeth.  With  so  great  nicety  had 
he  estimated  the  distance  between  his  mouth 
and  the  point  where  the  rope  was  fastened  to 
the  rail,  that  the  line  tightened  and  checked 
him  just  as  he  reached  the  horizontal  position 
on  the  rail.  If  one  had  told  me  beforehand 
that  such  a  feat  as  I  had  just  seen  this  man 
accomplish  was  possible,  I  should  have  thought 
him  a  fool. 

Neranya  was  now  balanced  on  his  stomach 
across  the  top  of  the  rail,  and  he  eased  his 
position  by  bending  his  spine  and  hanging 
down  on  either  side  as  much  as  possible. 
Having  rested  thus  for  some  minutes,  he  began 
cautiously  to  slide  off  backward,  slowly  pay 
ing  out  the  line  through  his  teeth,  finding  al 
most  a  fatal  difficulty  in  passing  the  knots. 
60 


HIS   UNCONQUERABLE   ENEMY 

Now,  it  is  quite  possible  that  the  line  would 
have  escaped  altogether  from  his  teeth  laterally 
when  he  would  slightly  relax  his  hold  to  let 
it  slip,  had  it  not  been  for  a  very  ingenious 
plan  to  which  he  had  resorted.  This  consisted 
in  his  having  made  a  turn  of  the  line  around 
his  neck  before  he  attacked  the  swing,  thus 
securing  a  threefold  control  of  the  line, — one 
by  his  teeth,  another  by  fridlion  against  his 
neck,  and  a  third  by  his  ability  to  compress  it 
between  his  cheek  and  shoulder.  It  was  quite 
evident  now  that  the  minutest  details  of  a  most 
elaborate  plan  had  been  carefully  worked  out 
by  him  before  beginning  the  task,  and  that 
possibly  weeks  of  difficult  theoretical  study 
had  been  consumed  in  the  mental  preparation. 
As  I  observed  him  I  was  reminded  of  certain 
hitherto  unaccountable  things  which  he  had 
been  doing  for  some  weeks  past — going  through 
certain  hitherto  inexplicable  motions,  undoubt 
edly  for  the  purpose  of  training  his  muscles 
for  the  immeasurably  arduous  labor  which  he 
was  now  performing. 

A  stupendous  and  seemingly  impossible  part 
of  his  task  had  been  accomplished.  Could  he 
reach  the  floor  in  safety  ?  Gradually  he  worked 
himself  backward  over  the  rail,  in  imminent 
danger  of  falling  ;  but  his  nerve  never  wavered, 
61 


HIS   UNCONQUERABLE   ENEMY 

and  I  could  see  a  wonderful  light  in  his  eyes. 
With  something  of  a  lurch,  his  body  fell  against 
the  outer  side  of  the  railing,  to  which  he  was 
hanging  by  his  chin,  the  line  still  held  firmly 
in  his  teeth.  Slowly  he  slipped  his  chin  from 
the  rail,  and  then  hung  suspended  by  the  line 
in  his  teeth.  By  almost  imperceptible  degrees, 
with  infinite  caution,  he  descended  the  line, 
and,  finally,  his  unwieldy  body  rolled  upon  the 
floor,  safe  and  unhurt ! 

What  miracle  would  this  superhuman  mon 
ster  next  accomplish  ?  I  was  quick  and  strong, 
and  was  ready  and  able  to  intercept  any  dan 
gerous  aft ;  but  not  until  danger  appeared 
would  I  interfere  with  this  extraordinary 
scene. 

I  must  confess  to  astonishment  upon  having 
observed  that  Neranya,  instead  of  proceeding 
direftly  toward  the  sleeping  rajah,  took  quite 
another  direction.  Then  it  was  only  escape, 
after  all,  that  the  wretch  contemplated,  and  not 
the  murder  of  the  rajah.  But  how  could  he 
escape  ?  The  only  possible  way  to  reach  the 
outer  air  without  great  risk  was  by  ascending 
the  stairs  to  the  balcony  and  leaving  by  the 
corridor  which  opened  upon  it,  and  thus  fall 
into  the  hands  of  some  British  soldiers  quar 
tered  thereabout,  who  might  conceive  the  idea 
62 


HIS   UNCONQUERABLE   ENEMY 

of  hiding  him ;  but  surely  it  was  impossible 
for  Neranya  to  ascend  that  long  flight  of  stairs  ! 
Nevertheless,  he  made  direftly  for  them,  his 
method  of  progression  this :  He  lay  upon  his 
back,  with  the  lower  end  of  his  body  toward 
the  stairs  ;  then  bowed  his  spine  upward,  thus 
drawing  his  head  and  shoulders  a  little  forward  ; 
straightened,  and  then  pushed  the  lower  end 
of  his  body  forward  a  space  equal  to  that 
through  which  he  had  drawn  his  head ;  repeat 
ing  this  again  and  again,  each  time,  while 
bending  his  spine,  preventing  his  head  from 
slipping  by  pressing  it  against  the  floor.  His 
progress  was  laborious  and  slow,  but  sensi 
ble  ;  and,  finally,  he  arrived  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs. 

It  was  manifest  that  his  insane  purpose  was 
to  ascend  them.  The  desire  for  freedom  must 
have  been  strong  within  him  !  Wriggling  to 
an  upright  position  against  the  newel-post,  he 
looked  up  at  the  great  height  which  he  had  to 
climb  and  sighed ;  but  there  was  no  dimming 
of  the  light  in  his  eyes.  How  could  he  accom 
plish  the  impossible  task  ? 

His  solution  of  the  problem  was  very  sim 
ple,  though  daring  and  perilous  as  all  the  rest. 
While  leaning  against  the  newel-post  he  let 
himself  fall  diagonally  upon  the  bottom  step, 
63 


HIS   UNCONQUERABLE   ENEMY 

where  he  lay  partly  hanging  over,  but  safe,  on 
his  side.  Turning  upon  his  back,  he  wriggled 
forward  along  the  step  to  the  rail  and  raised 
himself  to  an  upright  position  against  it  as  he 
had  against  the  newel-post,  fell  as  before,  and 
landed  on  the  second  step.  In  this  manner, 
with  inconceivable  labor,  he  accomplished  the 
ascent  of  the  entire  flight  of  stairs. 

It  being  apparent  to  me  that  the  rajah  was 
not  the  objefl  of  Neranya's  movements,  the 
anxiety  which  I  had  felt  on  that  account  was 
now  entirely  dissipated.  The  things  which 
already  he  had  accomplished  were  entirely  be 
yond  the  nimblest  imagination.  The  sympa 
thy  which  I  had  always  felt  for  the  wretched 
man  was  now  greatly  quickened  ;  and  as  infin- 
itesimally  small  as  I  knew  his  chances  for  es 
cape  to  be,  I  nevertheless  hoped  that  he  would 
succeed.  Any  assistance  from  me,  however, 
was  out  of  the  question ;  and  it  never  should 
be  known  that  I  had  witnessed  the  escape. 

Neranya  was  now  upon  the  balcony,  and  I 
could  dimly  see  him  wriggling  along  toward 
the  door  which  led  out  upon  the  balcony. 
Finally  he  stopped  and  wriggled  to  an  upright 
position  against  the  rail,  which  had  wide  open 
ings  between  the  balusters.  His  back  was 
toward  me,  but  he  slowly  turned  and  faced  me 
64 


HIS   UNCONQUERABLE    ENEMY 

and  the  hall.  At  that  great  distance  I  could 
not  distinguish  his  features,  but  the  slowness 
with  which  he  had  worked,  even  before  he  had 
fully  accomplished  the  ascent  of  the  stairs,  was 
evidence  all  too  eloquent  of  his  extreme  ex 
haustion.  Nothing  but  a  most  desperate  res 
olution  could  have  sustained  him  thus  far,  but 
he  had  drawn  upon  the  last  remnant  of  his 
strength.  He  looked  around  the  hall  with  a 
sweeping  glance,  and  then  down  upon  the 
rajah,  who  was  sleeping  immediately  beneath 
him,  over  twenty  feet  below.  He  looked  long 
and  earnestly,  sinking  lower,  and  lower,  and 
lower  upon  the  rail.  Suddenly,  to  my  incon 
ceivable  astonishment  and  dismay,  he  toppled 
through  and  shot  downward  from  his  lofty 
height !  I  held  my  breath,  expedling  to  see 
him  crushed  upon  the  stone  floor  beneath  ;  but 
instead  of  that  he  fell  full  upon  the  rajah's 
breast,  driving  him  through  the  cot  to  the 
floor.  I  sprang  forward  with  a  loud  cry  for 
help,  and  was  instantly  at  the  scene  of  the 
catastrophe.  With  indescribable  horror  I  saw 
that  Neranya's  teeth  were  buried  in  the  rajah's 
throat !  I  tore  the  wretch  away,  but  the  blood 
was  pouring  from  the  rajah's  arteries,  his  chest 
was  crushed  in,  and  he  was  gasping  in  the 
agony  of  death.  People  came  running  in,  ter- 
s  -i. 


HIS   UNCONQUERABLE   ENEMY 

rified.  I  turned  to  Neranya.  He  lay  upon 
his  back,  his  face  hideously  smeared  with  blood. 
Murder,  and  not  escape,  had  been  his  inten 
tions  from  the  beginning  ;  and  he  had  employed 
the  only  method  by  which  there  was  ever  a 
possibility  of  accomplishing  it.  I  knelt  be 
side  him,  and  saw  that  he  too  was  dying  ;  his 
back  had  been  broken  by  the  fall.  He  smiled 
sweetly  into  my  face,  and  a  triumphant  look 
of  accomplished  revenge  sat  upon  his  face  even 
in  death. 


The  Permanent  Stiletto 


I  HAD  sent  in  all  haste  for  Dr.  Rowell,  but 
as  yet  he  had  not  arrived,  and  the  strain 
was  terrible.  There  lay  my  young  friend 
upon  his  bed  in  the  hotel,  and  I  believed  that 
he  was  dying.  Only  the  jewelled  handle  of 
the  knife  was  visible  at  his  breast ;  the  blade 
was  wholly  sheathed  in  his  body. 

"  Pull  it  out,  old  fellow,"  begged  the  suf 
ferer  through  white,  drawn  lips,  his  gasping 
voice  being  hardly  less  distressing  than  the 
unearthly  look  in  his  eyes. 

"  No,  Arnold,"  said  I,  as  I  held  his  hand 
and  gently  stroked  his  forehead.  It  may  have 
been  instinct,  it  may  have  been  a  certain 
knowledge  of  anatomy  that  made  me  refuse. 

"  Why  not  ?  It  hurts,"  he  gasped.  It  was 
pitiful  to  see  him  suffer,  this  strong,  heakhy, 
daring,  reckless  young  fellow. 

Dr.   Rowell  walked  in — a  tall,  grave  man, 

with  gray  hair.     He  went  to  the  bed  and  I 

pointed    to   the    knife-handle,  with   its   great, 

bold  ruby  in  the  end  and  its  diamonds  and 

67 


THE   PERMANENT   STILETTO 

emeralds  alternating  in  quaint  designs  in  the 
sides.  The  physician  started.  He  felt  Ar 
nold's  pulse  and  looked  puzzled. 

"  When  was  this  done  ?"  he  asked. 

"About  twenty  minutes  ago,"  I  answered. 

The  physician  started  out,  beckoning  me  to 
follow. 

"  Stop  !"  said  Arnold.  We  obeyed.  "  Do 
you  wish  to  speak  of  me?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  physician,  hesitating. 

"  Speak  in  my  presence  then,"  said  my 
friend ;  "  I  fear  nothing."  It  was  said  in  his 
old,  imperious  way,  although  his  suffering 
must  have  been  great. 

"  If  you  insist " 

"I  do." 

"Then,"  said  the  physician,  "if  you  have 
any  matters  to  adjust  they  should  be  attended 
to  at  once.  I  can  do  nothing  for  you." 

"  How  long  can  I  live  ?"  asked  Arnold. 

The  physician  thoughtfully  stroked  his  gray 
beard.  "  It  depends,"  he  finally  said  ;  "  if 
the  knife  be  withdrawn  you  may  live  three 
minutes ;  if  it  be  allowed  to  remain  you  may 
possibly  live  an  hour  or  two  — not  longer." 

Arnold  never  flinched. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said,  smiling  faintly 
through  his  pain ;  "  my  friend  here  will  pay 
68 


THE   PERMANENT   STILETTO 

you.  I  have  some  things  to  do.  Let  the 
knife  remain."  He  turned  his  eyes  to  mine, 
and,  pressing  my  hand,  said,  affectionately, 
"  And  I  thank  you,  too,  old  fellow,  for  not 
pulling  it  out." 

The  physician,  moved  by  a  sense  of  deli 
cacy,  left  the  room,  saying,  "  Ring  if  there  is 
a  change.  I  will  be  in  the  hotel  office."  He 
had  not  gone  far  when  he  turned  an4  came 
back.  "  Pardon  me,"  said  he,  "  but  there  is 
a  young  surgeon  in  the  hotel  who  is  said  to  be 
a  very  skilful  man.  My  specialty  is  not  sur 
gery,  but  medicine.  May  I  call  him  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  eagerly ;  but  Arnold  smiled 
and  shook  his  head.  "  I  fear  there  will  not 
be  time,"  he  said.  But  I  refused  to  heed  him 
and  directed  that  the  surgeon  be  called  imme 
diately.  I  was  writing  at  Arnold's  dictation 
when  the  two  men  entered  the  room. 

There  was  something  of  nerve  and  assurance 
in  the  young  surgeon  that  struck  my  attention. 
His  manner,  thoagh  quiet,  was  bold  and 
straightforward  and  his  movements  sure  and 
quick.  This  young  man  had  already  distin 
guished  himself  in  the  performance  of  some 
difficult  hospital  laparotomies,  and  he  was  at 
that  sanguine  age  when  ambition  looks  through 
the  spectacles  of  experiment.  Dr.  Raoul 
69 


THE   PERMANENT   STILETTO 

Entrefort  was  the  new-comer's  name.  He 
was  a  Creole,  small  and  dark,  and  he  had  trav 
elled  and  studied  in  Europe. 

"  Speak  freely,"  gasped  Arnold,  after  Dr. 
Entrefort  had  made  an  examination. 

"  What  think  you,  doftor?"  asked  Entrefort 
of  the  older  man. 

"  I  think,"  was  the  reply,  "  that  the  knife- 
blade  has  penetrated  the  ascending  aorta,  about 
two  inches  above  the  heart.  So  long  as  the 
blade  remains  in  the  wound  the  escape  of 
blood  is  comparatively  small,  though  certain ; 
were  the  blade  withdrawn  the  heart  would 
almost  instantly  empty  itself  through  the 
aortal  wound." 

Meanwhile,  Entrefort  was  deftly  cutting 
away  the  white  shirt  and  the  undershirt,  and 
soon  had  the  breast  exposed.  He  examined 
the  gem-studded  hilt  with  the  keenest  interest. 

"  You  are  proceeding  on  the  assumption, 
dodlor,"  he  said,  "  that  this  weapon  is  a 
knife." 

"  Certainly,"  answered  Dr.  Rowell,  smil 
ing  ;  "  what  else  can  it  be  ?" 

"  It  is  a  knife,"  faintly  interposed  Arnold. 

"  Did  you  see  the  blade  ?"  Entrefort  asked 
him,  quickly. 

"  I  did — for  a  moment." 
70 


THE   PERMANENT   STILETTO 

Entrefort  shot  a  quick  look  at  Dr.  Rowell 
and  whispered,  "  Then  it  is  not  suicide." 
Dr.  Rowell  looked  puzzled  and  said  nothing. 

"  I  must  disagree  with  you,  gentlemen," 
quietly  remarked  Entrefort ;  "  this  is  not  a 
knife."  He  examined  the  handle  very  nar 
rowly.  Not  only  was  the  blade  entirely  con 
cealed  from  view  within  Arnold's  body,  but 
the  blow  had  been  so  strongly  delivered  that 
the  skin  was  depressed  by  the  guard.  "  The 
fa6l  that  it  is  not  a  knife  presents  a  very  curi 
ous  series  of  fadls  and  contingencies,"  pursued 
Entrefort,  with  amazing  coolness,  "  some  of 
which  are,  so  far  as  I  am  informed,  entirely 
novel  in  the  history  of  surgery." 

A  quizzical  expression,  faintly  amused  and 
manifestly  interested,  was  upon  Dr.  Rowell's 
face.  "  What  is  the  weapon,  doftor  ?"  he 
asked. 

"  A  stiletto." 

Arnold  started.  Dr.  Rowell  appeared  con- 
fused.  "  I  must  confess,"  he  said,  "  my  igno 
rance  of  the  differences  among  these  penetrat 
ing  weapons,  whether  dirks,  daggers,  stilettos, 
poniards,  or  bowie-knives." 

"  With  the  exception  of  the  stiletto,"  ex 
plained  Entrefort,  "  all  the  weapons  you 
mention  have  one  or  two  edges,  so  that  in 


THE   PERMANENT   STILETTO 

penetrating  they  cut  their  way.  A  stiletto  is 
round,  is  ordinarily  about  half  an  inch  or  less 
in  diameter  at  the  guard,  and  tapers  to  a  sharp 
point.  It  penetrates  solely  by  pushing  the 
tissues  aside  in  all  directions.  You  will  under 
stand  the  importance  of  that  point." 

Dr.  Rowell  nodded,  more  deeply  interested 
than  ever. 

"  How  do  you  know  it  is  a  stiletto,  Dr. 
Entrefort  ?"  I  asked. 

"  The  cutting  of  these  stones  is  the  work 
of  Italian  lapidaries,"  he  said,  "and  they  were 
set  in  Genoa.  Notice,  too,  the  guard.  It  is 
much  broader  and  shorter  than  the  guard  of 
an  edged  weapon ;  in  faft,  it  is  nearly  round. 
This  weapon  is  about  four  hundred  years  old, 
and  would  be  cheap  at  twenty  thousand 
florins.  Observe,  also,  the  darkening  color 
of  your  friend's  breast  in  the  immediate  vicin 
ity  of  the  guard  ;  this  indicates  that  the  tissues 
have  been  bruised  by  the  crowding  of  the 
'  blade,'  if  I  may  use  the  term." 

"  What  has  all  this  to  do  with  me  ?"  asked 
the  dying  man. 

"  Perhaps  a  great  deal,  perhaps  nothing.  It 
brings  a  single  ray  of  hope  into  your  desperate 
condition." 

Arnold's  eyes  sparkled  and  he  caught  his 
72 


THE   PERMANENT   STILETTO 

breath.  A  tremor  passed  all  through  him,  and 
I  felt  it  in  the  hand  I  was  holding.  Life  was 
sweet  to  him,  then,  after  all  — sweet  to  this 
wild  dare-devil  who  had  just  faced  death  with 
such  calmness  !  Dr.  Rowell,  though  showing 
no  sign  of  jealousy,  could  not  conceal  a  look 
of  incredulity. 

"  With  your  permission,"  said  Entrefort, 
addressing  Arnold,  "  I  will  do  what  I  can  to 
save  your  life." 

"  You  may,"  said  the  poor  boy. 

"  But  I  shall  have  to  hurt  you." 

"  Well." 

"  Perhaps  very  much." 

"  Well.  " 

"  And  even  if  I  succeed  (the  chance  is  one 
in  a  thousand)  you  will  never  be  a  sound  man, 
and  a  constant  and  terrible  danger  will  always 
be  present." 

«•  Well." 

Entrefort  wrote  a  note  and  sent  it  away  in 
haste  by  a  bell-boy. 

"  Meanwhile,"  he  resumed,  "  your  life  is  in 
imminent  danger  from  shock,  and  the  end  may 
come  in  a  few  minutes  or  hours  from  that 
cause.  Attend  without  delay  to  whatever 
matters  may  require  settling,  and  Dr.  Rowell," 
glancing  at  that  gentleman,  "  will  give  you 
73 


THE    PERMANENT   STILETTO 

something  to  brace  you  up.  I  speak  frankly, 
for  I  see  that  you  are  a  man  of  extraordinary 
nerve.  Am  I  right  ?" 

"  Be  perfectly  candid,"  said  Arnold. 

Dr.  Rowell,  evidently  bewildered  by  his 
cyclonic  young  associate,  wrote  a  prescription, 
which  I  sent  by  a  boy  to  be  rilled.  With 
unwise  zeal  I  asked  Entrefort, — 

"  Is  there  not  danger  of  lockjaw  ?" 

"No,"  he  replied;  "there  is  not  a  suffi 
ciently  extensive  injury  to  peripheral  nerves  to 
induce  traumatic  tetanus." 

I  subsided.  Dr.  Rowell's  medicine  came 
and  I  administered  a  dose.  The  physician 
and  the  surgeon  then  retired.  The  poor  suf 
ferer  straightened  up  his  business.  When  it 
was  done  he  asked  me, — 

"  What  is  that  crazy  Frenchman  going  to 
do  to  me  ?" 

"  I  have  no  idea  ;  be  patient." 

In  less  than  an  hour  they  returned,  bringing 
with  them  a  keen-eyed,  tall  young  man,  who 
had  a  number  of  tools  wrapped  in  an  apron. 
Evidently  he  was  unused  to  such  scenes,  for 
he  became  deathly  pale  upon  seeing  the 
ghastly  speflacle  on  my  bed.  With  staring 
eyes  and  open  mouth  he  began  to  retreat 
towards  the  door,  stammering, — 
74 


THE   PERMANENT   STILETTO 

«  I— I  can't  do  it." 

"  Nonsense,  Hippolyte  !  Don't  be  a  baby. 
Why,  man,  it  is  a  case  of  life  and  death  !" 

«  Bat — look  at  his  eyes  !  he  is  dying  !" 

Arnold  smiled.  "  I  am  not  dead,  though," 
he  gasped. 

"  I — I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Hippolyte. 

Dr.  Entrefort  gave  the  nervous  man  a  drink 
of  brandy  and  then  said, — 

"  No  more  nonsense,  my  boy ;  it  must  be 
done.  Gentlemen,  allow  me  to  introduce 
Mr.  Hippolyte,  one  of  the  most  original,  in 
genious,  and  skilful  machinists  in  the  coun 
try." 

Hippolyte,  being  modest,  blushed  as  he 
bowed.  In  order  to  conceal  his  confusion  he 
unrolled  his  apron  on  the  table  with  consid 
erable  noise  of  rattling  tools. 

"  I  have  to  make  some  preparations  before 
you  may  begin,  Hippolyte,  and  I  want  you  to 
observe  me  that  you  may  become  used  not 
only  to  the  sight  of  fresh  blood,  but  also,  what 
is  more  trying,  the  odor  of  it." 

Hippolyte  shivered.  Entrefort  opened  a 
case  of  surgical  instruments. 

"  Now,  doftor,  the  chloroform,"  he  said, 
to  Dr.  Rowell. 

"  I  will  not  take  it,"  promptly  interposed 
•  75 


THE   PERMANENT   STILETTO 

the  sufferer ;  "  I  want  to  know  when  I 
die." 

"Very  well,"  said  Entrefort ;  "but  you 
have  little  nerve  now  to  spare.  We  may  try 
it  without  chloroform,  however.  It  will  be 
better  if  you  can  do  without.  Try  your  best 
to  lie  still  while  I  cut." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?"  asked  Ar 
nold. 

"  Save  your  life,  if  possible." 

"  How  ?     Tell  me  all  about  it." 

"  Must  you  know  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Very  well,  then.  The  point  of  the  sti 
letto  has  passed  entirely  through  the  aorta, 
which  is  the  great  vessel  rising  out  of  the  heart 
and  carrying  the  aerated  blood  to  the  arteries. 
If  I  should  withdraw  the  weapon  the  blood 
would  rush  from  the  two  holes  in  the  aorta 
and  you  would  soon  be  dead.  If  the  weapon 
had  been  a  knife,  the  parted  tissue  would  have 
yielded,  and  the  blood  would  have  been  forced 
out  on  either  side  of  the  blade  and  would  have 
caused  death.  As  it  is,  not  a  drop  of  blood 
has  escaped  from  the  aorta  into  the  thoracic  cav 
ity.  All  that  is  left  for  us  to  do,  then,  is  to 
allow  the  stiletto  to  remain  permanently  in  the 
aorta.  Many  difficulties  at  once  present  them- 
76 


THE   PERMANENT   STILETTO 

selves,  and  I  do  not  wonder  at  Dr.  Rowell's 
look  of  surprise  and  incredulity." 

That  gentleman  smiled  and  shook  his  head. 

"  It  is  a  desperate  chance,"  continued  En- 
trefort,  "  and  is  a  novel  case  in  surgery ;  but  it 
is  the  only  chance.  The  fact  that  the  weapon 
is  a  stiletto  is  the  important  point  — a  stupid 
weapon,  but  a  blessing  to  us  now.  If  the 
assassin  had  known  more  she  would  have 
used " 

Upon  his  employment  of  the  noun  "  assas 
sin"  and  the  feminine  pronoun  "  she,"  both 
Arnold  and  I  started  violently,  and  I  cried  out 
to  the  man  to  stop. 

««  Let  him  proceed,"  said  Arnold,  who,  by 
a  remarkable  effort,  had  calmed  himself. 

"  Not  if  the  subject  is  painful,"  Entrefort 
said. 

"  It  is  not,"  protested  Arnold  ;  "  why  do 
you  think  the  blow  was  struck  by  a  woman  ?" 

"  Because,  first,  no  man  capable  of  being  an 
assassin  would  use  so  gaudy  and  valuable  a 
weapon  ;  second,  no  man  would  be  so  stupid 
as  to  carry  so  antiquated  and  inadequate  a  thing 
as  a  stiletto,  when  that  most  murderous  and 
satisfactory  of  all  penetrating  and  cutting  weap 
ons,  the  bowie-knife,  is  available.  She  was  a 
strong  woman,  too,  for  it  requires  a  good  hand 
77 


THE   PERMANENT   STILETTO 

to  drive  a  stiletto  to  the  guard,  even  though  it 
miss  the  sternum  by  a  hair's  breadth  and  slip 
between  the  ribs,  for  the  muscles  here  are 
hard  and  the  intercostal  spaces  narrow.  She 
was  not  only  a  strong  woman,  but  a  desperate 
one  also." 

"  That  will  do,"  said  Arnold.  He  beckoned 
me  to  bend  closer.  "  You  must  watch  this 
man ;  he  is  too  sharp  ;  he  is  dangerous." 

"  Then,"  resumed  Entrefort,  "  I  shall  tell 
you  what  I  intend  to  do.  There  will  undoubt 
edly  be  inflammation  of  the  aorta,  which,  if  it 
persist,  will  cause  a  fatal  aneurism  by  a  break 
ing  down  of  the  aortal  walls  ;  but  we  hope, 
with  the  help  of  your  youth  and  health,  to 
check  it. 

"  Another  serious  difficulty  is  this  :  With 
every  inhalation,  the  entire  thorax  (or  bony 
structure  of  the  chest)  considerably  expands. 
The  aorta  remains  stationary.  You  will  see, 
therefore,  that  as  your  aorta  and  your  breast  are 
now  held  in  rigid  relation  to  each  other  by  the 
stiletto,  the  chest,  with  every  inhalation,  pulls 
the  aorta  forward  out  of  place  about  half  an 
inch.  I  am  certain  that  it  is  doing  this,  be 
cause  there  is  no  indication  of  an  escape  of 
arterial  blood  into  the  thoracic  cavity  ;  in  other 
words,  the  mouths  of  the  two  aortal  wounds 
78 


THE   PERMANENT   STILETTO 

have  seized  upon  the  blade  with  a  firm  hold 
and  thus  prevent  it  from  slipping  in  and  out. 
This  is  a  very  fortunate  occurrence,  but  one 
which  will  cause  pain  for  some  time.  The 
aorta,  you  may  understand,  being  made  by 
the  stiletto  to  move  with  the  breathing, 
pulls  the  heart  backward  and  forward  with 
every  breath  you  take  ;  but  that  organ,  though 
now  undoubtedly  much  surprised,  will  accus 
tom  itself  to  its  new  condition. 

"  What  I  fear  most,  however,  is  the  forma 
tion  of  a  clot  around  the  blade.  You  see,  the 
presence  of  the  blade  in  the  aorta  has  already 
reduced  the  blood-carrying  capacity  of  that 
vessel ;  a  clot,  therefore,  need  not  be  very 
large  to  stop  up  the  aorta,  and,  of  course,  if 
that  should  occur  death  would  ensue.  But  the 
clot,  if  one  form,  may  be  dislodged  and  driven 
forward,  in  which  event  it  may  lodge  in  any 
one  of  the  numerous  branches  from  the  aorta 
and  produce  results  more  or  less  serious,  pos 
sibly  fatal.  If,  for  instance,  it  should  choke 
either  the  right  or  the  left  carotid,  there  would 
ensue  atrophy  of  one  side  of  the  brain,  and 
consequently  paralysis  of  half  the  entire  body; 
but  it  is  possible  that  in  time  there  would  come 
about  a  secondary  circulation  from  the  other 
side  of  the  brain,  and  thus  restore  a  healthy 
79 


THE   PERMANENT   STILETTO 

condition.  Or  the  clot  (which,  in  passing  al 
ways  from  larger  arteries  to  smaller,  must 
unavoidably  find  one  not  sufficiently  large  to 
carry  it,  and  must  lodge  somewhere)  may  either 
necessitate  amputation  of  one  of  the  four  limbs 
or  lodge  itself  so  deep  within  the  body  that  it 
cannot  be  reached  with  the  knife.  You  are 
beginning  to  realize  some  of  the  dangers  which 
await  you." 

Arnold  smiled  faintly. 

"  But  we  shall  do  our  best  to  prevent  the 
formation  of  a  clot,"  continued  Entrefort ; 
"  there  are  drugs  which  may  be  used  with 
effeft." 

"  Are  there  more  dangers  ?" 

"  Many  more  ;  some  of  the  more  serious 
have  not  been  mentioned.  One  of  these  is  the 
probability  of  the  aortal  tissues  pressing  upon 
the  weapon  relaxing  their  hold  and  allowing 
the  blade  to  slip.  That  would  let  out  the 
blood  and  cause  death.  I  am  uncertain  whether 
the  hold  is  now  maintained  by  the  pressure  of 
the  tissues  or  the  adhesive  quality  of  the  serum 
which  was  set  free  by  the  punfture.  I  am 
convinced,  though,  that  in  either  event  the 
hold  is  easily  broken  and  that  it  may  give  way 
at  any  moment,  for  it  is  under  several  kinds  of 
strains.  Every  time  the  heart  contracts  and 
80 


THE   PERMANENT   STILETTO 

crowds  the  blood  into  the  aorta,  the  latter 
expands  a  little,  and  then  contracts  when  the 
pressure  is  removed.  Any  unusual  exercise  or 
excitement  produces  stronger  and  quicker 
heart-beats,  and  increases  the  strain  on  the 
adhesion  of  the  aorta  to  the  weapon.  A  fright, 
fall,  a  jump,  a  blow  on  the  chest — any  of  these 
might  so  jar  the  heart  and  aorta  as  to  break 
the  hold." 

Entrefort  stopped. 

«  Is  that  all  ?"  asked  Arnold. 

"  No  ;  but  is  not  that  enough  ?" 

"  More  than  enough,"  said  Arnold,  with  a 
sudden  and  dangerous  sparkle  in  his  eyes. 
Before  any  of  us  could  think,  the  desperate 
fellow  had  seized  the  handle  of  the  stiletto 
with  both  hands  in  a  determined  effort  to  with 
draw  it  and  die.  I  had  had  no  time  to  order 
my  faculties  to  the  movement  of  a  muscle,  when 
Entrefort,  with  incredible  alertness  and  swift 
ness,  had  Arnold's  wrists.  Slowly  Arnold 
relaxed  his  hold. 

"  There,  now  !"  said  Entrefort,  soothingly  ; 
"  that  was  a  careless  act  and  might  have  broken 
the  adhesion !  You'll  have  to  be  care 
ful." 

Arnold  looked  at  him  with  a  curious  combi 
nation  of  expressions. 
6  81 


THE   PERMANENT   STILETTO 

"  Dr.  Entrefort,"  he  quietly  remarked,"  you 
are  the  devil." 

Bowing  profoundly,  Entrefort  replied : 
"  You  do  me  too  great  honor  ;"  then  he  whis 
pered  to  his  patient :  "  If  you  do  that" — • 
with  a  motion  towards  the  hilt — "  I  will  have 
her  hanged  for  murder." 

Arnold  started  and  choked,  and  a  look  of 
horror  overspread  his  face.  He  withdrew  his 
hands,  took  one  of  mine  in  both  of  his,  threw 
his  arms  upon  the  pillow  above  his  head,  and, 
holding  my  hand,  firmly  said  to  Entrefort, — 

"  Proceed  with  your  work." 

"  Come  closer,  Hippolyte,"  said  Entrefort, 
and  observe  narrowly.  Will  you  kindly  assist 
me,  Dr.  Rowell  ?"  That  gentleman  had  sat 
in  wondering  silence. 

Entrefort's  hand  was  quick  and  sure,  and  he 
used  the  knife  with  marvellous  dexterity.  First 
he  made  four  equidistant  incisions  outward 
from  the  guard  and  just  through  the  skin. 
Arnold  held  his  breath  and  ground  his  teeth 
at  the  first  cut,  but  soon  regained  command  of 
himself.  Each  incision  was  about  two  inches 
long.  Hippolyte  shuddered  and  turned  his 
head  aside.  Entrefort,  whom  nothing  escaped, 
exclaimed, — 

"  Steady,  Hippolyte  !    Observe  !" 
82 


THE   PERMANENT   STILETTO 

Quickly  was  the  skin  peeled  back  to  the  limit 
of  the  incisions.  This  must  have  been  excru 
ciatingly  painful.  Arnold  groaned,  and  his 
hands  were  moist  and  cold.  Down  sank  the 
knife  into  the  flesh  from  which  the  skin  had 
been  raised,  and  blood  flowed  freely ;  Dr. 
Rowell  handled  the  sponge.  The  keen  knife 
worked  rapidly.  Arnold's  marvellous  nerve 
was  breaking  down.  He  clutched  my  hand 
fiercely  ;  his  eyes  danced ;  his  mind  was  weak 
ening.  Almost  in  a  moment  the  flesh  had 
been  cut  away  to  the  bones,  which  were  now 
exposed, — two  ribs  and  the  sternum.  A  few 
quick  cuts  cleared  the  weapon  between  the 
guard  and  the  ribs. 

"  To  work,  Hippolyte — be  quick  !" 

The  machinist  had  evidently  been  coached 
before  he  came.  With  slender,  long-fingered 
hands,  which  trembled  at  first,  he  seledled  cer 
tain  tools  with  nice  precision,  made  some 
rapid  measurements  of  the  weapon  and  of  the 
cleared  space  around  it,  and  began  to  adjust 
the  parts  of  a  queer  little  machine.  Arnold 
watched  him  curiously. 

"  What "  he  began  to  say ;  but  he 

ceased;  a  deeper  pallor  set  on  his  face,  his 
hands  relaxed,  and  his  eyelids  fell. 

"  Thank  God  !"  exclaimed  Entrefort ;  "  he 
83 


THE   PERMANENT   STILETTO 

has  fainted — he  can't  stop   us   now.     Quick, 
Hippolyte !" 

The  machinist  attached  the  queer  little  ma 
chine  to  the  handle  of  the  weapon,  seized  the 
stiletto  in  his  left  hand,  and  with  his  right 
began  a  series  of  sharp,  rapid  movements  back 
ward  and  forward. 

"  Hurry,  Hippolyte !"  urged  Entrefort. 

"  The  metal  is  very  hard." 

"  Is  it  cutting  ?" 

"  I  can't  see  for  the  blood." 

In  another  moment  something  snapped. 
Hippolyte  started  ;  he  was  very  nervous.  He 
removed  the  little  machine. 

"The  metal  is  very  hard,"  he  said;  "it 
breaks  the  saws." 

He  adjusted  another  tiny  saw  and  resumed 
work.  After  a  little  while  he  picked  up  the 
handle  of  the  stiletto  and  laid  it  on  the  table. 
He  had  cut  it  off,  leaving  the  blade  inside 
Arnold's  body. 

"  Good,  Hippolyte  !"  exclaimed  Entrefort. 
In  a  minute  he  had  closed  the  bright  end  of 
the  blade  from  view  by  drawing  together  the 
skin-flaps  and  sewing  them  firmly. 

Arnold     returned     to     consciousness     and 
glanced  down  at  his  breast.     He  seemed  puz 
zled.     "  Where  is  the  weapon  ?"  he  asked. 
84 


THE   PERMANENT   STILETTO 

"  Here  is  part  of  it,"  answered  Entrefort, 
holding  up  the  handle. 

"  And  the  blade " 

"  That  is  an  irremovable  part  of  your  in 
ternal  machinery."  Arnold  was  silent.  "It 
had  to  be  cut  off,"  pursued  Entrefort,  "  not 
only  because  it  would  be  troublesome  and  an 
undesirable  ornament,  but  also  because  it  was 
advisable  to  remove  every  possibility  of  its 
withdrawal."  Arnold  said  nothing.  "  Here 
is  a  prescription,"  said  Entrefort ;  "  take  the 
medicine  as  directed  for  the  next  five  years 
without  fail." 

"  What  for  ?  I  see  that  it  contains  muriatic 
acid." 

"  If  necessary  I  will  explain  five  years  from 
now," 

"If  I  live." 

"If  you  live." 

Arnold  drew  me  down  to  him  and  whis 
pered,  "  Tell  her  to  fly  at  once ;  this  man  may 
make  trouble  for  her." 

Was  there  ever  a  more  generous  fellow  ? 

#  #  *  *  *  * 

I  thought   that  I  recognized  a  thin,  pale, 
bright  face  among  the  passengers  who  were 
leaving  an  Australian  steamer  which  had  just 
arrived  at  San  Francisco. 
85 


THE    PERMANENT   STILETTO 

"  Dr.  Entrefort !"  I  cried. 

"  Ah !"  he  said,  peering  up  into  my  face 
and  grasping  my  hand;  "I  know  you  now, 
but  you  have  changed.  You  remember  that  I 
was  called  away  immediately  after  I  had  per 
formed  that  crazy  operation  on  your  friend.  I 
have  spent  the  intervening  four  years  in  India, 
China,  Tibet,  Siberia,  the  South  Seas,  and 
God  knows  where  not.  But  wasn't  that  a 
most  absurd,  hare-brained  experiment  that  I 
tried  on  your  friend !  Still,  it  was  all  that 
could  have  been  done.  I  have  dropped  all 
that  nonsense  long  ago.  It  is  better,  for  more 
reasons  than  one,  to  let  them  die  at  once. 
Poor  fellow  !  he  bore  it  so  bravely  !  Did  he 
suffer  much  afterwards  ?  How  long  did  he 
live  ?  A  week — perhaps  a  month  ?" 

"  He  is  alive  yet." 

"  What !"  exclaimed  Entrefort,  startled. 

"  He  is,  indeed,  and  is  in  this  city." 

"  Incredible !" 

"  It  is  true  ;  you  shall  see  him." 

"  But  tell  me  about  him  now !"  cried  the 
surgeon,  his  eager  eyes  glittering  with  the 
peculiar  light  which  1  had  seen  in  them  on  the 
night  of  the  operation.  "  Has  he  regularly 
taken  the  medicine  which  I  prescribed  ?" 

"  He  has.  Well,  the  change  in  him,  from 
86 


THE   PERMANENT   STILETTO 

what  he  was  before  the  operation,  is  shocking. 
Imagine  a  young  dare-devil  of  twenty-two, 
who  had  no  greater  fear  of  danger  or  death 
than  of  a  cold,  now  a  cringing,  cowering 
fellow;  apparently  an  old  man,  nursing  his 
life  -with  pitiful  tenderness,  fearful  that  at  any 
moment  something  may  happen  to  break  the 
hold  of  his  aorta-walls  on  the  stiletto-blade ; 
a  confirmed  hypochondriac,  peevish,  melan 
cholic,  unhappy  in  the  extreme.  He  keeps 
himself  confined  as  closely  as  possible,  avoid 
ing  all  excitement  and  exercise,  and  even 
reads  nothing  exciting.  The  constant  danger 
has  worn  out  the  last  shred  of  his  manhood 
and  left  him  a  pitiful  wreck.  Can  nothing  be 
done  for  him  ?" 

"  Possibly.  But  has  he  consulted  no  physi 
cian  ?" 

"  None  whatever  ;  he  has  been  afraid  that  he 
might  learn  the  worst." 

"  Let  us  find  him  at  once.  Ah,  here  comes 
my  wife  to  meet  me !  She  arrived  by  the 
other  steamer." 

I  recognized  her  immediately  and  was  over 
come  with  astonishment. 

"  Charming  woman,"  said  Entrefort ; 
"you'll  like  her.  We  were  married  three 
years  ago  at  Bombay.  She  belongs  to  a  noble 
87 


THE   PERMANENT   STILETTO 

Italian  family  and  has  travelled  a  great 
deal." 

He  introduced  us.  To  my  unspeakable 
relief  she  remembered  neither  my  name  nor 
my  face.  I  must  have  appeared  odd  to  her, 
but  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  be  perfectly 
unconcerned.  We  went  to  Arnold's  rooms,  I 
with  much  dread.  I  left  her  in  the  reception- 
room  and  took  Entrefort  within.  Arnold  was 
too  greatly  absorbed  in  his  own  troubles  to  be 
dangerously  excited  by  meeting  Entrefort, 
whom  he  greeted  with  indifferent  hospitality. 

"  But  I  heard  a  woman's  voice,"  he  said. 

"  It  sounds "  He  checked  himself,  and 

before  I  could  intercept  him  he  had  gone  to 
the  reception-room ;  and  there  he  stood  face 
to  face  with  the  beautiful  adventuress, — none 
other  than  Entrefort's  wife  now, — who,  wick 
edly  desperate,  had  driven  a  stiletto  into  Ar 
nold's  vitals  in  a  hotel  four  years  before 
because  he  had  refused  to  marry  her.  They 
recognized  each  other  instantly  and  both  grew 
pale ;  but  she,  quicker  witted,  recovered  her 
composure  at  once  and  advanced  towards  him 
with  a  smile  and  an  extended  hand.  He 
stepped  back,  his  face  ghastly  with  fear. 

"  Oh !"  he  gasped,  "  the  excitement,  the 
shock, — it  has  made  the  blade  slip  out !  The 
88 


THE   PERMANENT   STILETTO 

blood  is  pouring  from  the  opening, — it  burns, 
— I  am  dying !"  and  he  fell  into  my  arms  and 
instantly  expired. 

The  autopsy  revealed  the  surprising  faft 
that  there  was  no  blade  in  his  thorax  at  all ; 
it  had  been  gradually  consumed  by  the  muriatic 
acid  which  Entrefort  had  prescribed  for  that 
very  purpose,  and  the  perforations  in  the 
aorta  had  closed  up  gradually  with  the  wasting 
of  the  blade  and  had  been  perfectly  healed  for 
a  long  time.  All  his  vital  organs  were  sound. 
My  poor  friend,  once  so  reckless  and  brave, 
had  died  simply  of  a  childish  and  groundless 
fear,  and  the  woman  unwittingly  had  accom 
plished  her  revenge. 


Over  an  Absinthe  Bottle 
¥¥ 

ARTHUR  KIMBERLIN,  a  young  man 
of  very  high  spirit,  found  himself  a 
total  stranger  in  San  Francisco  one  rainy  even 
ing,  at  a  time  when  his  heart  was  breaking ; 
for  his  hunger  was  of  that  most  poignant  kind 
in  which  physical  suffering  is  forced  to  the 
highest  point  without  impairment  of  the  men 
tal  functions.  There  remained  in  his  posses 
sion  not  a  thing  that  he  might  have  pawned  for 
a  morsel  to  eat ;  and  even  as  it  was,  he  had 
stripped  his  body  of  all  articles  of  clothing 
except  those  which  a  remaining  sense  of  de 
cency  compelled  him  to  retain.  Hence  it  was 
that  cold  assailed  him  and  conspired  with  hun 
ger  to  complete  his  misery.  Having  been 
brought  into  the  world  and  reared  a  gentleman, 
he  lacked  the  courage  to  beg  and  the  skill  to 
steal.  Had  not  an  extraordinary  thing  occurred 
to  him,  he  either  would  have  drowned  himself 
in  the  bay  within  twenty-four  hours  or  died 
of  pneumonia  in  the  street.  He  had  been 
90 


OVER   AN   ABSINTHE   BOTTLE 

seventy  hours  without  food,  and  his  mental 
desperation  had  driven  him  far  in  its  race  with 
his  physical  needs  to  consume  the  strength 
within  him ;  so  that  now,  pale,  weak,  and  tot 
tering,  he  took  what  comfort  he  could  find  in 
the  savory  odors  which  came  steaming  up  from 
the  basement  kitchens  of  the  restaurants  in 
Market  Street,  caring  more  to  gain  them  than 
to  avoid  the  rain.  His  teeth  chattered  ;  he 
shambled,  stooped,  and  gasped.  He  was  too 
desperate  to  curse  his  fate — he  could  only  long 
for  food.  He  could  not  reason  ;  he  could  not 
understand  that  ten  thousand  hands  might 
gladly  have  fed  him  ;  he  could  think  only  of 
the  hunger  which  consumed  him,  and  of  food 
that  could  give  him  warmth  and  happiness. 

When  he  had  arrived  at  Mason  Street,  he 
saw  a  restaurant  a  little  way  up  that  thorough 
fare,  and  for  that  he  headed,  crossing  the  street 
diagonally.  He  stopped  before  the  window 
and  ogled  the  steaks,  thick  and  lined  with  fat ; 
big  oysters  lying  on  ice ;  slices  of  ham  as  large 
as  his  hat ;  whole  roasted  chickens,  brown  and 
juicy.  He  ground  his  teeth,  groaned,  and 
staggered  on. 

A  few  steps  beyond  was  a  drinking-saloon, 
which  had  a  private  door  at  one  side,  with  the 
words  "  Family  Entrance"  painted  thereon. 


OVER   AN   ABSINTHE   BOTTLE 

In  the  recess  of  the  door  (which  was  closed) 
stood  a  man.  In  spite  of  his  agony,  Kimber- 
lin  saw  something  in  this  man's  face  that  ap 
palled  and  fascinated  him.  Night  was  on,  and 
the  light  in  the  vicinity  was  dim  ;  but  it  was 
apparent  that  the  stranger  had  an  appearance 
of  whose  character  he  himself  must  have  been 
ignorant.  Perhaps  it  was  the  unspeakable  an 
guish  of  it  that  struck  through  Kimberlin's 
sympathies.  The  young  man  came  to  an  un 
certain  halt  and  stared  at  the  stranger.  At  first 
he  was  unseen,  for  the  stranger  looked  straight 
out  into  the  street  with  singular  fixity,  and  the 
death-like  pallor  of  his  face  added  a  weirdness 
to  the  immobility  of  his  gaze.  Then  he  took 
notice  of  the  young  man. 

"  Ah,"  he  said,  slowly  and  with  peculiar 
distinctness,  "  the  rain  has  caught  you,  too, 
without  overcoat  or  umbrella  !  Stand  in  this 
doorway — there  is  room  for  two." 

The  voice  was  not  unkind,  though  it  had  an 
alarming  hardness.  It  was  the  first  word  that 
had  been  addressed  to  the  sufferer  since  hunger 
had  seized  him,  and  to  be  spoken  to  at  all, 
and  have  his  comfort  regarded  in  the  slightest 
way,  gave  him  cheer.  He  entered  the  embra 
sure  and  stood  beside  the  stranger,  who  at 
once  relapsed  into  his  fixed  gaze  at  nothing 
92 


OVER   AN   ABSINTHE   BOTTLE 

across  the  street.  But  presently  the  stranger 
stirred  himself  again. 

"  It  may  rain  a  long  time,"  said  he ;  "I 
am  cold,  and  I  observe  that  you  tremble.  Let 
us  step  inside  and  get  a  drink." 

He  opened  the  door  and  Kimberlin  followed, 
hope  beginning  to  lay  a  warm  hand  upon  his 
heart.  The  pale  stranger  led  the  way  into 
one  of  the  little  private  booths  with  which  the 
place  was  furnished.  Before  sitting  down  he 
put  his  hand  into  his  pocket  and  drew  forth  a 
roll  of  bank-bills. 

"  You  are  younger  than  I,"  he  said  ;  "  won't 
you  go  to  the  bar  and  buy  a  bottle  of  absinthe, 
and  bring  a  pitcher  of  water  and  some  glasses  ? 
I  don't  like  for  the  waiters  to  come  around. 
Here  is  a  twenty-dollar  bill." 

Kimberlin  took  the  bill  and  started  down 
through  the  corridor  towards  the  bar.  He 
clutched  the  money  tightly  in  his  palm ;  it  felt 
warm  and  comfortable,  and  sent  a  delicious 
tingling  through  his  arm.  How  many  glorious 
hot  meals  did  that  bill  represent  ?  He  clutched 
it  tighter  and  hesitated.  He  thought  he  smelled 
a  broiled  steak,  with  fat  little  mushrooms  and 
melted  butter  in  the  steaming  dish.  He  stopped 
and  looked  back  towards  the  door  of  the  booth. 
He  saw  that  the  stranger  had  closed  it.  He 
93 


OVER   AN   ABSINTHE   BOTTLE 

could  pass  it,  slip  out  the  door,  and  buy  some 
thing  to  eat.  He  turned  and  started,  but  the 
coward  in  him  (there  are  other  names  for  this) 
tripped  his  resolution  ;  so  he  went  straight  to 
the  bar  and  made  the  purchase.  This  was  so 
unusual  that  the  man  who  served  him  looked 
sharply  at  him. 

"  Ain't  goin'  to  drink  all  o'  that,  are  you  ?" 
he  asked. 

"  I  have  friends  in  the  box,"  replied  Kim- 
berlin,  "and  we  want  to  drink  quietly  and 
without  interruption.  We  are  in  Number  7." 

"  Oh,  beg  pardon.  That's  all  right,"  said 
the  man. 

Kimberlin's  step  was  very  much  stronger 
and  steadier  as  he  returned  with  the  liquor. 
He  opened  the  door  of  the  booth.  The  stran 
ger  sat  at  the  side  of  the  little  table,  staring  at 
the  opposite  wall  just  as  he  had  stared  across 
the  street.  He  wore  a  wide-brimmed,  slouch 
hat,  drawn  well  down.  It  was  only  after 
Kimberlin  had  set  the  bottle,  pitcher,  and 
glasses  on  the  table,  and  seated  himself  oppo 
site  the  stranger  and  within  his  range  of  vision, 
that  the  pale  man  noticed  him. 

"  Oh  !  you  have  brought  it  ?  How  kind  of 
you  !  Now  please  lock  the  door." 

Kimberlin  had  slipped  the  change  into  his 
94 


OVER   AN   ABSINTHE   BOTTLE 

pocket,  and  was  in  the   aft  of  bringing  it  out 
when  the  stranger  said, — 

"  Keep  the  change.  You  will  need  it,  for 
I  am  going  to  get  it  back  in  a  way  that  may 
interest  you.  Let  us  first  drink,  and  then  I 
will  explain." 

The  pale  man  mixed  two  drinks  of  absinthe 
and  water,  and  the  two  drank.  Kimberlin, 
unsophisticated,  had  never  tasted  the  liquor 
before,  and  he  found  it  harsh  and  offensive ; 
but  no  sooner  had  it  reached  his  stomach  than 
it  began  to  warm  him,  and  sent  the  most  de 
licious  thrill  through  his  frame. 

"  It  will  do  us  good,"  said  the  stranger ; 
"  presently  we  shall  have  more.  Meanwhile, 
do  you  know  how  to  throw  dice  ?" 

Kimberlin  weakly  confessed  that  he  did 
not. 

"  I  thought  not.  Well,  please  go  to  the 
bar  and  bring  a  dice-box.  I  would  ring  for 
it,  but  I  don't  want  the  waiters  to  be  coming 
in." 

Kimberlin  fetched  the  box,  again  locked  the 
door,  and  the  game  began.  It  was  not  one  of 
the  simple  old  games,  but  had  complications,  in 
which  judgment,  as  well  as  chance,  played  a 
part.  After  a  game  or  two  without  stakes,  the 
stranger  said, — 

95 


OVER   AN   ABSINTHE   BOTTLE 

"  You  now  seem  to  understand  it.  Very 
well — I  will  show  you  that  you  do  not.  We 
will  now  throw  for  a  dollar  a  game,  and  in 
that  way  I  shall  win  the  money  that  you  re 
ceived  in  change.  Otherwise  I  should  be 
robbing  you,  and  I  imagine  you  cannot  afford 
to  lose.  I  mean  no  offence.  I  am  a  plain- 
spoken  man,  but  I  believe  in  honesty  before 
politeness.  I  merely  want  a  little  diversion, 
and  you  are  so  kind-natured  that  I  am  sure  you 
will  not  object." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  replied  Kimberlin,  "  I 
shall  enjoy  it." 

"  Very  well ;  but  let  us  have  another  drink 
before  we  start.  I  believe  I  am  growing 
colder." 

They  drank  again,  and  this  time  the  starv 
ing  man  took  his  liquor  with  relish — at  least, 
it  was  something  in  his  stomach,  and  it  warmed 
and  delighted  him. 

The  stake  was  a  dollar  a  side.  Kimberlin 
won.  The  pale  stranger  smiled  grimly,  and 
opened  another  game.  Again  Kimberlin  won. 
Then  the  stranger  pushed  back  his  hat  and 
fixed  that  still  gaze  upon  his  opponent,  smiling 
yet.  With  this  full  view  of  the  pale  stranger's 
face,  Kimberlin  was  more  appalled  than  ever. 
He  had  begun  to  acquire  a  certain  self-posses- 
96 


OVER   AN   ABSINTHE   BOTTLE 

sion  and  ease,  and  his  marvelling  at  the  singular 
character  of  the  adventure  had  begun  to  weak 
en,  when  this  new  incident  threw  him  back 
into  confusion.  It  was  the  extraordinary  ex 
pression  of  the  stranger's  face  that  alarmed 
him.  Never  upon  the  face  of  a  living  being 
had  he  seen  a  pallor  so  death-like  and  chilling. 
The  face  was  more  than  pale ;  it  was  white. 
Kimberlin's  observing  faculty  had  been  sharp 
ened  by  the  absinthe,  and,  after  having  detected 
the  stranger  in  an  absent-minded  effort  two  or 
three  times  to  stroke  a  beard  which  had  no 
existence,  he  reflected  that  some  of  the  white 
ness  of  the  face  might  be  due  to  the  recent 
removal  of  a  full  beard.  Besides  the  pallor, 
there  were  deep  and  sharp  lines  upon  the  face, 
which  the  ele&ric  light  brought  out  very  dis- 
tinftly.  With  the  exception  of  the  steady 
glance  of  the  eyes  and  an  occasional  hard 
smile,  that  seemed  out  of  place  upon  such  a 
face,  the  expression  was  that  of  stone  inartis- 
tically  cut.  The  eyes  were  black,  but  of 
heavy  expression  ;  the  lower  lip  was  purple  ; 
the  hands  were  fine,  white,  and  thin,  and  dark 
veins  bulged  out  upon  them.  The  stranger 
pulled  down  his  hat. 

"  You  are  lucky,"  he  said.     "  Suppose  we 
try  another  drink.     There  is  nothing  like  ab- 
7  97 


OVER   AN   ABSINTHE   BOTTLE 

sinthe  to  sharpen  one's  wits,  and  I  see  that 
you  and  I  are  going  to  have  a  delightful 
game." 

After  the  drink  the  game  proceeded.  Kim- 
berlin  won  from  the  very  first,  rarely  losing  a 
game.  He  became  greatly  excited.  His  eyes 
shone  ;  color  came  to  his  cheeks.  The  stran 
ger,  having  exhausted  the  roll  of  bills  which 
he  first  produced,  drew  forth  another,  much 
larger  and  of  higher  denominations.  There 
were  several  thousand  dollars  in  the  roll.  At 
Kimberlin's  right  hand  were  his  winnings, — 
something  like  two  hundred  dollars.  The 
stakes  were  raised,  and  the  game  went  rapidly 
on.  Another  drink  was  taken.  Then  fortune 
turned  the  stranger's  way,  and  he  won  easily. 
It  went  back  to  Kimberlin,  for  he  was  now 
playing  with  all  the  judgment  and  skill  he 
could  command.  Once  only  did  it  occur  to 
him  to  wonder  what  he  should  do  with  the 
money  if  he  should  quit  winner  ;  but  a  sense 
of  honor  decided  him  that  it  would  belong  to 
the  stranger. 

By  this  time  the  absinthe  had  so  sharpened 
Kimberlin's  faculties  that,  the  temporary  satis 
faction  which  it  had  brought  to  his  hunger 
having  passed,  his  physical  suffering  returned 
with  increased  aggressiveness.  Could  he  not 


OVER   AN   ABSINTHE   BOTTLE 

order  a  supper  with  his  earnings  ?  No  ;  that 
was  out  of  the  question,  and  the  stranger  said 
nothing  about  eating.  Kimberlin  continued  to 
play,  while  the  manifestations  of  hunger  took 
the  form  of  sharp  pains,  which  darted  through 
him  viciously,  causing  him  to  writhe  and  grind 
his  teeth.  The  stranger  paid  no  attention,  for 
he  was  now  wholly  absorbed  in  the  game. 
He  seemed  puzzled  and  disconcerted.  He 
played  with  great  care,  studying  each  throw 
minutely.  No  conversation  passed  between 
them  now.  They  drank  occasionally,  the  dice 
continued  to  rattle,  the  money  kept  piling  up 
at  Kimberlin's  hand. 

The  pale  man  began  to  behave  strangely. 
At  times  he  would  start  and  throw  back  his 
head,  as  though  he  were  listening.  For  a  mo 
ment  his  eyes  would  sharpen  and  flash,  and 
then  sink  into  heaviness  again.  More  than 
once  Kimberlin,  who  had  now  begun  to  sus 
pect  that  his  antagonist  was  some  kind  of  mon 
ster,  saw  a  frightfully  ghastly  expression  sweep 
over  his  face,  and  his  features  would  become 
fixed  for  a  very  short  time  in  a  peculiar  gri 
mace.  It  was  noticeable,  however,  that  he  was 
steadily  sinking  deeper  and  deeper  into  a  con 
dition  of  apathy.  Occasionally  he  would  raise 
his  eyes  to  Kimberlin's  face  after  the  young 
99 


OVER   AN   ABSINTHE   BOTTLE 

man  had  made  an  astonishingly  lucky  throw, 
and  keep  them  fixed  there  with  a  steadiness 
that  made  the  young  man  quail. 

The  stranger  produced  another  roll  of  bills 
when  the  second  was  gone,  and  this  had  a  value 
many  times  as  great  as  the  others  together. 
The  stakes  were  raised  to  a  thousand  dollars  a 
game,  and  still  Kimberlin  won.  At  last  the 
time  came  when  the  stranger  braced  himself 
for  a  final  effort.  With  speech  somewhat 
thick,  but  very  deliberate  and  quiet,  he  said, — 

"  You  have  won  seventy-four  thousand  dol 
lars,  which  is  exadlly  the  amount  I  have  re 
maining.  We  have  been  playing  for  several 
hours.  I  am  tired,  and  I  suppose  you  are. 
Let  us  finish  the  game.  Each  will  now  stake 
his  all  and  throw  a  final  game  for  it." 

Without  hesitation,  Kimberlin  agreed.  The 
bills  made  a  considerable  pile  on  the  table. 
Kimberlin  threw,  and  the  box  held  but  one 
combination  that  could  possibly  beat  him  ;  this 
combination  might  be  thrown  once  in  ten 
thousand  times.  The  starving  man's  heart  beat 
violently  as  the  stranger  picked  up  the  box 
with  exasperating  deliberation.  It  was  a  long 
time  before  he  threw.  He  made  his  combina 
tions  and  ended  by  defeating  his  opponent. 
He  sat  looking  at  the  dice  a  long  time,  and 
100 


OVER   AN   ABSINTHE   BOTTLE 

then  he  slowly  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  settled 
himself  comfortably,  raised  his  eyes  to  Kim- 
berlin's,  and  fixed  that  unearthly  stare  upon 
him.  He  said  not  a  word  ;  his  face  contained 
not  a  trace  of  emotion  or  intelligence.  He 
simply  looked.  One  cannot  keep  one's  eyes 
open  very  long  without  winking,  but  the  stran 
ger  did.  He  sat  so  motionless  that  Kimberlin 
began  to  be  tortured. 

"  I  will  go  now,"  he  said  to  the  stranger — 
said  that  when  he  had  not  a  cent  and  was 
starving. 

The  stranger  made  no  reply,  but  did  not 
relax  his  gaze ;  and  under  that  gaze  the  young 
man  shrank  back  in  his  own  chair,  terrified. 
He  became  aware  that  two  men  were  cautiously 
talking  in  an  adjoining  booth.  As  there  was 
now  a  deathly  silence  in  his  own,  he  listened, 
and  this  is  what  he  heard  : 

"  Yes ;  he  was  seen  to  turn  into  this  street 
about  three  hours  ago." 

"  And  he  had  shaved  ?" 

"  He  must  have  done  so  ;  and  to  remove  a 
full  beard  would  naturally  make  a  great  change 
in  a  man." 

"  But  it  may  not  have  been  he." 

"  True  enough ;  but  his  extreme  pallor  at- 
trafted  attention.  You  know  that  he  has  been 
101 


OVER   AN   ABSINTHE   BOTTLE 

troubled  with  heart-disease  lately,  and  it  has 
affefted  him  seriously." 

"  Yes,  but  his  old  sldll  remains.  Why,  this 
is  the  most  daring  bank-robbery  we  ever  had 
here.  A  hundred  and  forty-eight  thousand 
dollars —think  of  it!  How  long  has  it  been 
since  he  was  let  out  of  Joliet  ?" 

"  Eight  years.  In  that  time  he  has  grown 
a  beard,  and  lived  by  dice-throwing  with  men 
who  thought  they  could  deteft  him  if  he 
should  swindle  them ;  but  that  is  impossible. 
No  human  being  can  come  winner  out  of  a 
game  with  him.  He  is  evidently  not  here; 
let  us  look  farther." 

Then  the  two  men  clinked  glasses  and 
passed  out. 

The  dice-players— -the  pale  one  and  the 
starving  one — sat  gazing  at  each  other,  with  a 
hundred  and  forty-eight  thousand  dollars  piled 
up  between  them.  The  winner  made  no 
move  to  take  in  the  money  ;  he  merely  sat  and 
stared  at  Kimberlin,  wholly  unmoved  by  the 
conversation  in  the  adjoining  room.  His  im 
perturbability  was  amazing,  his  absolute  still 
ness  terrifying. 

Kimberlin  began  to  shake  with  an  ague. 
The  cold,  steady  gaze  of  the  stranger  sent  ice 
into  his  marrow.  Unable  to  bear  longer  this 

102 


OVER   AN   ABSINTHE   BOTTLE 

unwavering  look,  Kimberlin  moved  to  one 
side,  and  then  he  was  amazed  to  discover  that 
the  eyes  of  the  pale  man,  instead  of  following 
him,  remained  fixed  upon  the  spot  where  he 
had  sat,  or,  rather,  upon  the  wall  behind  it. 
A  great  dread  beset  the  young  man.  He 
feared  to  make  the  slightest  sound.  Voices 
of  men  in  the  bar-room  were  audible,  and  the 
sufferer  imagined  that  he  heard  others  whis 
pering  and  tip-toeing  in  the  passage  outside 
his  booth.  He  poured  out  some  absinthe, 
watching  his  strange  companion  all  the  while, 
and  drank  alone  and  unnoticed.  He  took  a 
heavy  drink,  and  it  had  a  peculiar  effect  upon 
him  :  he  felt  his  heart  bounding  with  alarming 
force  and  rapidity,  and  breathing  was  difficult. 
Still  his  hunger  remained,  and  that  and  the 
absinthe  gave  him  an  idea  that  the  gastric  acids 
were  destroying  him  by  digesting  his  stomach. 
He  leaned  forward  and  whispered  to  the 
stranger,  but  was  given  no  attention.  One  of 
the  man's  hands  lay  upon  the  table ;  Kimberlin 
placed  his  upon  it,  and  then  drew  back  in 
terror — the  hand  was  as  cold  as  a  stone. 

The  money  must  not    lie   there  exposed. 
Kimberlin  arranged  it  into  neat  parcels,  look 
ing  furtively  every  moment  at  his  immovable 
companion,  and  in  mortal  fear  that  be  would 
103 


OVER   AN   ABSINTHE   BOTTLE 

stir!  Then  he  sat  back  and  waited.  A 
deadly  fascination  impelled  him  to  move  back 
into  his  former  position,  so  as  to  bring  his 
face  direftly  before  the  gaze  of  the  stranger. 
And  so  the  two  sat  and  stared  at  each  other. 

Kimberlin  felt  his  breath  coming  heavier 
and  his  heart-beats  growing  weaker,  but  these 
conditions  gave  him  comfort  by  reducing  his 
anxiety  and  softening  the  pangs  of  hunger. 
He  was  growing  more  and  more  comfortable 
and  yawned.  If  he  had  dared  he  might  have 
gone  to  sleep. 

Suddenly  a  fierce  light  flooded  his  vision 
and  sent  him  with  a  bound  to  his  feet.  Had 
he  been  struck  upon  the  head  or  stabbed  to 
the  heart  ?  No ;  he  was  sound  and  alive. 
The  pale  stranger  still  sat  there  staring  at 
nothing  and  immovable;  but  Kimberlin  was 
no  longer  afraid  of  him.  On  the  contrary,  an 
extraordinary  buoyancy  of  spirit  and  elasticity 
of  body  made  him  feel  reckless  and  daring. 
His  former  timidity  and  scruples  vanished,  and 
he  felt  equal  to  any  adventure.  Without  hesi 
tation  he  gathered  up  the  money  and  bestowed 
it  in  his  several  pockets. 

"  I  am  a  fool  to  starve,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"  with  all  this  money  ready  to  my  hand." 

As  cautiously  as  a  thief  he  unlocked  the 
104 


OVER   AN   ABSINTHE   BOTTLE 

door,  stepped  out,  reclosed  it,  and  boldly 
and  with  head  ereft  stalked  out  upon  the 
street.  Much  to  his  astonishment,  he  found 
the  city  in  the  bustle  of  the  early  evening,  yet 
the  sky  was  clear.  It  was  evident  to  him  that 
he  had  not  been  in  the  saloon  as  long  as  he 
had  supposed.  He  walked  along  the  street 
with  the  utmost  unconcern  of  the  dangers  that 
beset  him,  and  laughed  softly  but  gleefully. 
Would  he  not  eat  now —ah,  would  he  not? 
Why,  he  could  buy  a  dozen  restaurants  !  Not 
only  that,  but  he  would  hunt  the  city  up  and 
down  for  hungry  men  and  feed  them  with  the 
fattest  steaks,  the  juiciest  roasts,  and  the  big 
gest  oysters  that  the  town  could  supply.  As 
for  himself,  he  must  eat  first;  after  that  he 
would  set  up  a  great  establishment  for  feeding 
other  hungry  mortals  without  charge.  Yes, 
he  would  eat  first ;  if  he  pleased,  he  would  eat 
till  he  should  burst.  In  what  single  place 
could  he  find  sufficient  to  satisfy  his  hunger  ? 
Could  he  live  sufficiently  long  to  have  an  ox 
killed  and  roasted  whole  for  his  supper?  Be 
sides  an  ox  he  would  order  two  dozen  broiled 
chickens,  fifty  dozen  oysters,  a  dozen  crabs, 
ten  dozen  eggs,  ten  hams,  eight  young  pigs, 
twenty  wild  ducks,  fifteen  fish  of  four  different 
kinds,  eight  salads,  four  dozen  bottles  each  of 
105 


OVER   AN   ABSINTHE   BOTTLE 

claret,  burgundy,  and  champagne  ;  for  pastry, 
eight  plum-puddings,  and  for  dessert,  bushels 
of  nuts,  ices,  and  confections.  It  would  re 
quire  time  to  prepare  such  a  meal,  and  if  he 
could  only  live  until  it  could  be  made  ready 
it  would  be  infinitely  better  than  to  spoil  his 
appetite  with  a  dozen  or  two  meals  of  ordinary 
size.  He  thought  he  could  live  that  long,  for 
he  felt  amazingly  strong  and  bright.  Never 
in  his  life  before  had  he  walked  with  so  great 
ease  and  lightness ;  his  feet  hardly  touched  the 
ground — he  ran  and  leaped.  It  did  him  good 
to  tantalize  his  hunger,  for  that  would  make 
his  relish  of  the  feast  all  the  keener.  Oh,  but 
how  they  would  stare  when  he  would  give  his 
order,  and  how  comically  they  would  hang 
back,  and  how  amazed  they  would  be  when 
he  would  throw  a  few  thousands  of  dollars  on 
the  counter  arid  tell  them  to  take  their  money 
out  of  it  and  keep  the  change  !  Really,  it  was 
worth  while  to  be  so  hungry  as  that,  for  then 
eating  became  an  unspeakable  luxury.  And 
one  must  not  be  in  too  great  a  hurry  to  eat 
when  one  is  so  hungry — that  is  beastly.  How 
much  of  the  joy  of  living  do  rich  people  miss 
from  eating  before  they  are  hungry — before 
they  have  gone  three  days  and  nights  without 
food  !  And  how  manly  it  is,  and  how  great 
106 


OVER   AN   ABSINTHE   BOTTLE 

self-control  it  shows,  to  dally  with  starvation 
when  one  has  a  dazzling  fortune  in  one's 
pocket  and  every  restaurant  has  an  open  door ! 
To  be  hungry  without  money — that  is  despair; 
to  be  starving  with  a  bursting  pocket — that  is 
sublime !  Surely  the  only  true  heaven  is  that 
in  which  one  famishes  in  the  presence  of 
abundant  food,  which  he  might  have  for  the 
taking,  and  then  a  gorged  stomach  and  a  long 
sleep. 

The  starving  wretch,  speculating  thus,  still 
kept  from  food.  He  felt  himself  growing  in 
stature,  and  the  people  whom  he  met  became 
pygmies.  The  streets  widened,  the  stars  be 
came  suns  and  dimmed  the  eledlric  lights,  and 
the  most  intoxicating  odors  and  the  sweetest 
music  filled  the  air.  Shouting,  laughing,  and 
singing,  Kimberlin  joined  in  a  great  chorus 

that  swept  over  the  city,  and  then 

#  *  #  *  #  # 

The  two  detectives  who  had  traced  the 
famous  bank-robber  to  the  saloon  in  Mason 
Street,  where  Kimberlin  had  encountered  the 
stranger  of  the  pallid  face,  left  the  saloon ; 
but,  unable  to  pursue  the  trail  farther,  had 
finally  returned.  They  found  the  door  of 
booth  No.  7  locked.  After  rapping  and  call 
ing  and  receiving  no  answer,  they  burst  open 


OVER   AN   ABSINTHE   BOTTLE 

the  door,  and  there  they  saw  two  men — one 
of  middle  age  and  the  other  very  young — sit 
ting  perfectly  still,  and  in  the  strangest  manner 
imaginable  staring  at  each  other  across  the 
table.  Between  them  was  a  great  pile  of 
money,  arranged  neatly  in  parcels.  Near  at 
hand  were  an  empty  absinthe  bottle,  a  water- 
pitcher,  glasses,  and  a  dice-box,  with  the  dice 
lying  before  the  elder  man  as  he  had  thrown 
them  last.  One  of  the  deteftives  covered  the 
elder  man  with  a  revolver  and  commanded, — 

"  Throw  up  your  hands  !" 

But  the  dice-thrower  paid  no  attention. 
The  detectives  exchanged  startled  glances. 
They  looked  closer  into  the  faces  of  the  two 
men,  and  then  they  discovered  that  both  were 
dead. 


lOo 


The  Inmate  of  the  Dungeon 

¥+ 

AFTER  the  Board  of  State  Prison  Direc 
tors,  sitting  in  session  at  the  prison, 
had  heard  and  disposed  of  the  complaints  and 
petitions  of  a  number  of  convidls,  the  warden 
announced  that  all  who  wished  to  appear  had 
been  heard.  Thereupon  a  certain  uneasy  and 
apprehensive  expression,  which  all  along  had 
sat  upon  the  faces  of  the  directors,  became 
visibly  deeper.  The  chairman — a  nervous, 
energetic,  abrupt,  incisive  man — glanced  at  a  slip 
of  paper  in  his  hand,  and  said  to  the  warden, — 

"  Send  a  guard  for  convift  No.  14,208." 

The  warden  started  and  became  slightly 
pale.  Somewhat  confused,  he  haltingly  re 
plied,  "  Why,  he  has  expressed  no  desire  to 
appear  before  you." 

"  Nevertheless,   you  will  send   for  him  at 
once,"  responded  the  chairman. 
.      The  warden   bowed   stiffly  and   directed  a 
guard  to  produce  the  convict.      Then,  turning 
to  the  chairman,  he  said, — 

"  I  am  ignorant  of  your  purpose  in  summon- 
109 


THE  INMATE  OF  THE  DUNGEON 

ing  this  man,  but  of  course  I  have  no  objec 
tion.  I  desire,  however,  to  make  a  statement 
concerning  him  before  he  appears." 

"  When  we  shall  have  called  for  a  statement 
from  you,"  coldly  responded  the  chairman, 
"you  may  make  one." 

The  warden  sank  back  into  his  seat.  He 
was  a  tall,  fine-looking  man,  well-bred  and  in 
telligent,  and  had  a  kindly  face.  Though  or 
dinarily  cool,  courageous,  and  self-possessed, 
he  was  unable  to  conceal  a  strong  emotion, 
which  looked  much  like  fear.  A  heavy  silence 
fell  upon  the  room,  disturbed  only  by  the 
official  stenographer,  who  was  sharpening  his 
pencils.  A  stray  beam  of  light  from  the  west 
ering  sun  slipped  into  the  room  between  the 
edge  of  the  window-shade  and  the  sash,  and 
fell  across  the  chair  reserved  for  the  convift. 
The  uneasy  eyes  of  the  warden  finally  fell 
upon  this  beam  and  there  his  glance  rested. 
The  chairman,  without  addressing  any  one 
particularly,  remarked, — 

"  There  are  ways  of  learning  what  occurs  in 
a  prison  without  the  assistance  of  either  the 
warden  or  the  convifts." 

Just  then  the  guard  appeared  with  the  con- 
vift,  who  shambled  in  painfully  and  labo 
riously,  as  with  a  string  he  held  up  from  the 
no 


THE  INMATE  OF  THE  DUNGEON 

floor  the  heavy  iron  ball  which  was  chained  to 
his  ankles.  He  was  about  forty-five  years 
old.  Undoubtedly  he  once  had  been  a  man 
of  uncommon  physical  strength,  for  a  power 
ful  skeleton  showed  underneath  the  sallow  skin 
which  covered  his  emaciated  frame.  His  sal- 
lowness  was  peculiar  and  ghastly.  It  was 
partly  that  of  disease,  and  partly  of  something 
worse ;  and  it  was  this  something  that  ac 
counted  also  for  his  shrunken  muscles  and  man 
ifest  feebleness. 

There  had  been  no  time  to  prepare  him  for 
presentation  to  the  board.  As  a  consequence, 
his  unstockinged  toes  showed  through  his  gap 
ing  shoes  ;  the  dingy  suit  of  prison  stripes 
which  covered  his  gaunt  frame  was  frayed  and 
tattered  ;  his  hair  had  not  been  recently  cut  to 
the  prison  fashion,  and,  being  rebellious,  stood 
out  upon  his  head  like  bristles ;  and  his  beard, 
which,  like  his  hair,  was  heavily  dashed  with 
gray,  had  not  been  shaved  for  weeks.  These 
incidents  of  his  appearance  combined  with  a 
very  peculiar  expression  of  his  face  to  make 
an  extraordinary  picture.  It  is  difficult  to  de 
scribe  this  almost  unearthly  expression.  With 
a  certain  suppressed  ferocity  it  combined  an 
inflexibility  of  purpose  that  sat  like  an  iron 
mask  upon  him.  His  eyes  were  hungry  and 
in 


THE  INMATE  OF  THE  DUNGEON 

eager ;  they  were  the  living  part  of  him,  and 
they  shone  luminous  from  beneath  shaggy 
brows.  His  forehead  was  massive,  his  head 
of  fine  proportions,  his  jaw  square  and  strong, 
and  his  thin,  high  nose  showed  traces  of  an 
ancestry  that  must  have  made  a  mark  in  some 
corner  of  the  world  at  some  time  in  history. 
He  was  prematurely  old ;  this  was  seen  in  his 
gray  hair  and  in  the  uncommonly  deep  wrinkles 
which  lined  his  forehead  and  the  corners  of  his 
eyes  and  of  his  mouth. 

Upon  stumbling  weakly  into  the  room,  faint 
with  the  labor  of  walking  and  of  carrying  the 
iron  ball,  he  looked  around  eagerly,  like  a  bear 
driven  to  his  haunches  by  the  hounds.  His 
glance  passed  so  rapidly  and  unintelligently 
from  one  face  to  another  that  he  could  not  have 
had  time  to  form  a  conception  of  the  persons 
present,  until  his  swift  eyes  encountered  the 
face  of  the  warden.  Instantly  they  flashed ; 
he  craned  his  neck  forward  ;  his  lips  opened 
and  became  blue  ;  the  wrinkles  deepened  about 
his  mouth  and  eyes ;  his  form  grew  rigid,  and 
his  breathing  stopped.  This  sinister  and  ter 
rible  attitude — all  the  more  so  because  he  was 
wholly  unconscious  of  it — was  disturbed  only 
when  the  chairman  sharply  commanded,  "Take 
that  seat." 

112 


THE  INMATE  OF  THE  DUNGEON 

The  convift  started  as  though  he  had  been 
struck,  and  turned  his  eyes  upon  the  chairman. 
He  drew  a  deep  inspiration,  which  wheezed 
and  rattled  as  it  passed  into  his  chest.  An 
expression  of  excruciating  pain  swept  over  his 
face.  He  dropped  the  ball,  which  struck  the 
floor  with  a  loud  sound,  and  his  long,  bony 
fingers  tore  at  the  striped  shirt  over  his  breast. 
A  groan  escaped  him,  and  he  would  have  sunk 
to  the  floor  had  not  the  guard  caught  him  and 
held  him  upright.  In  a  moment  it  was  over, 
and  then,  collapsing  with  exhaustion,  he  sank 
into  the  chair.  There  he  sat,  conscious  and 
intelligent,  but  slouching,  disorganized,  and 
indifferent. 

The  chairman  turned  sharply  to  the  guard. 
"  Why  did  you  manacle  this  man,"  he  de 
manded,  "  when  he  is  evidently  so  weak,  and 
when  none  of  the  others  were  manacled  ?" 

"  Why,  sir,"  stammered  the  guard,  "  surely 
you  know  who  this  man  is :  he  is  the  most 
dangerous  and  desperate " 

"  We  know  all  about  that.  Remove  his 
manacles." 

The  guard  obeyed.  The  chairman  turned 
to  the  convift,  and  in  a  kindly  manner  said, 
"  Do  you  know  who  we  are  ?" 

The  convift  got  himself  together  a  little 
8  113 


THE  INMATE  OF  THE  DUNGEON 

and  looked  steadily  at  the  chairman.  "  No," 
he  replied,  after  a  pause.  His  manner  was 
direft,  and  his  voice  was  deep,  though  hoarse. 

"  We  are  the  State  Prison  Directors.  We 
have  heard  of  your  case,  and  we  want  you  to 
tell  us  the  whole  truth  about  it." 

The  convicVs  mind  worked  slowly,  and  it 
was  some  time  before  he  could  comprehend 
the  explanation  and  request.  When  he  had 
accomplished  that  task  he  said,  very  slowly, 
"  I  suppose  you  want  me  to  make  a  complaint, 
sir." 

"  Yes, — if  you  have  any  to  make." 

The  convict  was  getting  himself  in  hand. 
He  straightened  up,  and  gazed  at  the  chairman 
with  a  peculiar  intensity.  Then  firmly  and 
clearly  he  answered,  "  I've  no  complaint  to 
make." 

The  two  men  sat  looking  at  each  other  in 
silence,  and  as  they  looked  a  bridge  of  human 
sympathy  was  slowly  reared  between  them. 
The  chairman  rose,  passed  around  an  inter 
vening  table,  went  up  to  the  convi6l,  and  laid 
a  hand  on  his  gaunt  shoulder.  There  was  a 
tenderness  in  his  voice  that  few  men  had  ever 
heard  there. 

"  I  know,"  said  he,  "  that  you  are  a  patient 
and  uncomplaining  man,  or  we  should  have 
114 


THE  INMATE  OF  THE  DUNGEON 

heard  from  you  long  ago.  In  asking  you  to 
make  a  statement  I  am  merely  asking  for  your 
help  to  right  a  wrong,  if  a  wrong  has  been 
done.  Leave  your  own  wishes  entirely  out  of 
consideration,  if  you  prefer.  Assume,  if  you 
will,  that  it  is  not  our  intention  or  desire  either 
to  give  you  relief  or  to  make  your  case  harder  for 
you.  There  are  fifteen  hundred  human  beings 
in  this  prison,  and  they  are  under  the  absolute 
control  of  one  man.  If  a  serious  wrong  is 
practised  upon  one,  it  may  be  upon  others.  I 
ask  you  in  the  name  of  common  humanity,  and 
as  one  man  of  another,  to  put  us  in  the  way 
of  working  justice  in  this  prison.  If  you  have 
the  instinfts  of  a  man  within  you,  you  will 
comply  with  my  request.  Speak  out,  there 
fore,  like  a  man,  and  have  no  fear  of  any 
thing." 

The  convift  was  touched  and  stung.  He 
looked  up  steadily  into  the  chairman's  face,  and 
firmly  said,  "  There  is  nothing  in  this  world 
that  I  fear."  Then  he  hung  his  head,  and 
presently  he  raised  it  and  added,  "  I  will  tell 
you  all  about  it." 

At  that  moment  he  shifted  his  position  so  as 

to   bring   the    beam  of  light   perpendicularly 

across  his  face  and  chest,  and  it  seemed  to  split 

him  in  twain.     He  saw  it,  and  feasted  his  gaze 

"5 


THE  INMATE  OF  THE  DUNGEON 

upon  it  as  it  lay  upon  his  breast.  After  a  time 
he  thus  proceeded,  speaking  very  slowly,  and 
in  a  strangely  monotonous  voice  : 

"  I  was  sent  up  for  twenty  years  for  killing 
a  man.  I  hadn't  been  a  criminal :  I  killed  him 
without  thinking,  for  he  had  robbed  me  and 
wronged  me.  I  came  here  thirteen  years  ago. 
I  had  trouble  at  first — it  galled  me  to  be  a 
convict ;  but  I  got  over  that,  because  the  war 
den  that  was  here  then  understood  me  and 
was  kind  to  me,  and  he  made  me  one  of  the 
best  men  in  the  prison.  I  don't  say  this  to 
make  you  think  I'm  complaining  about  the 
present  warden,  or  that  he  didn't  treat  me 
kindly :  I  can  take  care  of  myself  with  him. 
I  am  not  making  any  complaint.  I  ask  no 
man's  favor,  and  I  fear  no  man's  power." 

"  That  is  all  right.     Proceed." 

"  After  the  warden  had  made  a  good  man 
out  of  me  I  worked  faithfully,  sir ;  I  did 
everything  they  told  me  to  do ;  I  worked 
willingly  and  like  a  slave.  It  did  me  good  to 
work,  and  I  worked  hard.  I  never  violated 
any  of  the  rules  after  I  was  broken  in.  And 
then  the  law  was  passed  giving  credits  to  the 
men  for  good  conduft.  My  term  was  twenty 
years,  but  I  did  so  well  that  my  credits  piled 
up,  and  after  I  had  been  here  ten  years  I  could 
116 


THE  INMATE  OF  THE  DUNGEON 

begin  to  see  my  way  out.  There  were  only 
about  three  years  left.  And,  sir,  I  worked 
faithfully  to  make  those  years  good.  I  knew 
that  if  I  did  anything  against  the  rules  I  should 
lose  my  credits  and  have  to  stay  nearly  ten 
years  longer.  I  knew  all  about  that,  sir  :  I 
never  forgot  it.  I  wanted  to  be  a  free  man 
again,  and  I  planned  to  go  away  somewhere 
and  make  the  fight  all  over, — to  be  a  man  in 
the  world  once  more." 

"  We  know  all  about  your  record  in  the 
prison.  Proceed." 

"  Well,  it  was  this  way.  You  know  they 
were  doing  some  heavy  work  in  the  quarries 
and  on  the  grades,  and  they  wanted  the 
strongest  men  in  the  prison.  There  weren't 
very  many  :  there  never  are  very  many  strong 
men  in  a  prison.  And  I  was  one  of  'em  that 
they  put  on  the  heavy  work,  and  I  did  it 
faithfully.  They  used  to  pay  the  men  for 
extra  work, — not  pay  'em  money,  but  the 
value  of  the  money  in  candles,  tobacco,  extra 
clothes,  and  things  like  that.  I  loved  to  work, 
and  I  loved  to  work  extra,  and  so  did  some  of 
the  other  men.  On  Saturdays  the  men  who 
had  done  extra  work  would  fall  in  and  go  up 
to  the  captain  of  the  guard,  and  he  would  give 
to  each  man  what  was  coming  to  him.  He 
117 


THE  INMATE  OF  THE  DUNGEON 

had  it  all  down  in  a  book,  and  when  a  man 
would  come  up  and  call  for  what  was  due  him 
the  captain  would  give  it  to  him,  whatever  he 
wanted  that  the  rules  allowed. 

"  One  Saturday  I  fell  in  with  the  others. 
A  good  many  were  ahead  of  me  in  the  line, 
and  when  they  got  what  they  wanted  they  fell 
into  a  new  line,  waiting  to  be  marched  to  the 
cells.  When  my  turn  in  the  line  came  I  went 
up  to  the  captain  and  said  I  would  take  mine 
in  tobacco.  He  looked  at  me  pretty  sharply, 
and  said,  '  How  did  you  get  back  in  that  line?' 
I  told  him  I  belonged  there, — that  I  had  come 
to  get  my  extra.  He  looked  at  his  book,  and 
he  said,  '  You've  had  your  extra :  you  got 
tobacco.'  And  he  told  me  to  fall  into  the 
new  line.  I  told  him  I  hadn't  received  any 
tobacco ;  I  said  I  hadn't  got  my  extra,  and 
hadn't  been  up  before.  He  said,  '  Don't  spoil 
your  record  by  trying  to  steal  a  little  tobacco. 
Fall  in.'  ...  It  hurt  me,  sir.  I  hadn't  been 
up ;  I  hadn't  got  my  extra ;  and  I  wasn't  a 
thief,  and  I  never  had  been  a  thief,  and  no 
living  man  had  a  right  to  call  me  a  thief.  I 
said  to  him,  straight,  *  I  won't  fall  in  till  I  get 
my  extra,  and  I'm  not  a  thief,  and  no  man  can 
call  me  one,  and  no  man  can  rob  me  of  my 
just  dues.'  He  turned  pale,  and  said,  '  Fall 
118 


THE  INMATE  OF  THE  DUNGEON 

in,  there.'     I  said,  '  I  won't  fall  in  till  I  get 
my  dues.' 

"  With  that  he  raised  his  hand  as  a  signal, 
and  the  two  guards  behind  him  covered  me 
with  their  rifles,  and  a  guard  on  the  west  wall, 
and  one  on  the  north  wall,  and  one  on  the 
portico  in  front  of  the  arsenal,  all  covered  me 
with  rifles.  The  captain  turned  to  a  trusty 
and  told  him  to  call  the  warden.  The  warden 
came  out,  and  the  captain  told  him  I  was  try 
ing  to  run  double  on  my  extra,  and  said  I  was 
impudent  and  insubordinate  and  refused  to 
fall  in.  The  warden  said,  '  Drop  that  and 
fall  in.'  I  told  him  I  wouldn't  fall  in.  I  said 
I  hadn't  run  double,  that  I  hadn't  got  my 
extra,  and  that  I  would  stay  there  till  I  died 
before  I  would  be  robbed  of  it.  He  asked 
the  captain  if  there  wasn't  some  mistake,  and 
the  captain  looked  at  his  book  and  said  there 
was  no  mistake ;  he  said  he  remembered  me 
when  I  came  up  and  got  the  tobacco  and  he 
saw  me  fall  into  the  new  line,  but  he  didn't 
see  me  get  back  in  the  old  line.  The  warden 
didn't  ask  the  other  men  if  they  saw  me  get 
my  tobacco  and  slip  back  into  the  old  line. 
He  just  ordered  me  to  fall  in.  I  told  him  I 
would  die  before  I  would  do  that.  I  said  I 
wanted  my  just  dues  and  no  more,  and  I  asked 
119 


THE  INMATE  OF  THE  DUNGEON 

him  to  call  on  the  other  men  in  line  to  prove 
that  I  hadn't  been  up. 

"  He  said,  '  That's  enough  of  this.'  He 
sent  all  the  other  men  to  the  cells,  and  left  me 
standing  there.  Then  he  told  two  guards  to 
take  me  to  the  cells.  They  came  and  took 
hold  of  me,  and  I  threw  them  off  as  if  they 
were  babies.  Then  more  guards  came  up, 
and  one  of  them  hit  me  over  the  head  with  a 
club,  and  I  fell.  And  then,  sir,"  -  here  the 
convidVs  voice  fell  to  a  whisper, — "  and  then 
he  told  them  to  take  me  to  the  dungeon." 

The  sharp,  steady  glitter  of  the  convidVs 
eyes  failed,  and  he  hung  his  head  and  looked 
despairingly  at  the  floor. 

"  Go  on,"  said  the  chairman. 

"  They  took  me  to  the  dungeon,  sir.  Did 
you  ever  see  the  dungeon  ?" 

"  Perhaps  ;  but  you  may  tell  us  about  it." 

The  cold,  steady  gleam  returned  to  the  con- 
vidYs  eyes,  as  he  fixed  them  again  upon  the 
chairman. 

"  There  are  several  little  rooms  in  the  dun 
geon.  The  one  they  put  me  in  was  about 
five  by  eight.  It  has  steel  walls  and  ceiling, 
and  a  granite  floor.  The  only  light  that 
comes  in  passes  through  a  slit  in  the  door. 
The  slit  is  an  inch  wide  and  five  inches  long. 
120 


THE  INMATE  OF  THE  DUNGEON 

It  doesn't  give  much  light,  because  the  door  is 
thick.  It's  about  four  inches  thick,  and  is 
made  of  oak  and  sheet-steel,  bolted  through. 
The  slit  runs  this  way," — making  a  horizontal 
motion  in  the  air, — "  and  it  is  four  inches 
above  my  eyes  when  I  stand  on  tiptoe.  And 
I  can't  look  out  at  the  factory-wall  forty  feet 
away  unless  I  hook  my  fingers  in  the  slit  and 
pull  myself  up." 

He  stopped  and  regarded  his  hands,  the 
peculiar  appearance  of  which  we  all  had  ob 
served.  The  ends  of  the  fingers  were  uncom 
monly  thick  ;  they  were  red  and  swollen,  and 
the  knuckles  were  curiously  marked  with  deep 
white  scars. 

"  Well,  sir,  there  wasn't  anything  at  all  in 
the  dungeon,  but  they  gave  me  a  blanket,  and 
they  put  me  on  bread  and  water.  That's  all 
they  ever  give  you  in  the  dungeon.  They 
bring  the  bread  and  water  once  a  day,  and  that 
is  at  night,  because  if  they  come  in  the  day 
time  it  lets  in  the  light. 

"  The  next  night  after  they  put  me  in— it 
was  Sunday  night — the  warden  came  with  the 
guard  and  asked  me  if  I  was  all  right.  I  said 
I  was.  He  said,  '  Will  you  behave  yourself 
and  go  to  work  to-morrow  ?'  I  said, '  No,  sir  ; 
I  won't  go  to  work  till  I  get  what  is  due  me.' 

121 


THE  INMATE  OF  THE  DUNGEON 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  said,  '  Very 
well  :  maybe  you'll  change  your  mind  after  you 
have  been  in  here  a  week.' 

"  They  kept  me  there  a  week.  The  next 
Sunday  night  the  warden  came  and  said,  '  Are 
you  ready  to  go  to  work  to  morrow  ?'  and  I 
said,  '  No  ;  I  will  not  go  to  work  till  I  get 
what  is  due  me.'  He  called  me  hard  names. 
I  said  it  was  a  man's  duty  to  demand  his 
rights,  and  that  a  man  who  would  stand  to  be 
treated  like  a  dog  was  no  man  at  all." 

The  chairman  interrupted.  "  Did  you  not 
reflect,"  he  asked,  "  that  these  officers  would 
not  have  stooped  to  rob  you  ? — that  it  was 
through  some  mistake  they  withheld  your 
tobacco,  and  that  in  any  event  you  had  a 
choice  of  two  things  to  lose, — one  a  plug  of 
tobacco,  and  the  other  seven  years  of  free 
dom  ?" 

"  But  they  angered  me  and  hurt  me,  sir,  by 
calling  me  a  thief,  and  they  threw  me  in  the 
dungeon  like  a  beast.  ...  I  was  standing  for 
my  rights,  and  my  rights  were  my  manhood  ; 
and  that  is  something  a  man  can  carry  sound  to 
the  grave,  whether  he's  bond  or  free,  weak  or 
powerful,  rich  or  poor." 

"  Well,  after  you  refused  to  go  to  work  what 
did  the  warden  do  ?" 

122 


THE  INMATE  OF  THE  DUNGEON 

The  convift,  although  tremendous  excite 
ment  must  have  surged  and  boiled  within  him, 
slowly,  deliberately,  and  weakly  came  to  his 
feet.  He  placed  his  right  foot  on  the  chair, 
and  rested  his  right  elbow  on  the  raised  knee. 
The  index  finger  of  his  right  hand,  pointing 
to  the  chairman  and  moving  slightly  to  lend 
emphasis  to  his  narrative,  was  the  only  thing 
that  modified  the  rigid  immobility  of  his  fig 
ure.  Without  a  single  change  in  the  pitch  or 
modulation  of  his  voice,  never  hurrying,  but 
speaking  with  the  slow  and  dreary  monotony 
with  which  he  had  begun,  he  nevertheless — 
partly  by  reason  of  these  evidences  of  his  incred 
ible  self-control — made  a  formidable  pi&ure  as 
he  proceeded : 

"  When  I  told  him  that,  sir,  he  said  he'd 
take  me  to  the  ladder  and  see  if  he  couldn't 
make  me  change  my  mind.  .  .  .  Yes,  sir  ;  he 
said  he'd  take  me  to  the  ladder."  (Here  there 
was  a  long  pause.)  "  And  I  a  human  being, 
with  flesh  on  my  bones  and  the  heart  of  a  man 
in  my  body.  The  other  warden  hadn't  tried 
to  break  my  spirit  on  the  ladder.  He  did 
break  it,  though  ;  he  broke  it  clear  to  the 
bottom  of  the  man  inside  of  me  ;  but  he  did 
it  with  a  human  word,  and  not  with  the  dun 
geon  and  the  ladder.  I  didn't  believe  the 
123 


THE  INMATE  OF  THE  DUNGEON 

warden  when  he  said  he  would  take  me  to  the 
ladder.  I  couldn't  imagine  myself  alive  and 
put  through  at  the  ladder,  and  1  couldn't  imag 
ine  any  human  being  who  could  find  the  heart 
to  put  me  through.  If  I  had  believed  him  I 
would  have  strangled  him  then  and  there,  and 
got  my  body  full  of  lead  while  doing  it.  No, 
sir;  I  could  not  believe  it. 

"  And  then  he  told  me  to  come  on.  I  went 
with  him  and  the  guards.  He  brought  me  to 
the  ladder.  I  had  never  seen  it  before.  It 
was  a  heavy  wooden  ladder,  leaned  against  the 
wall,  and  the  bottom  was  bolted  to  the  floor 
and  the  top  to  the  wall.  A  whip  was  on  the 
floor."  (Again  there  was  a  pause.)  "  The 
warden  told  me  to  strip,  sir,  and  I  stripped. 
.  .  .  And  still  I  didn't  believe  he  would 
whip  me.  I  thought  he  just  wanted  to  scare 
me. 

"  Then  he  told  me  to  face  up  to  the  ladder. 
I  did  so,  and  reached  my  arms  up  to  the  straps. 
They  strapped  my  arms  to  the  ladder,  and 
stretched  so  hard  that  they  pulled  me  up  clear 
of  the  floor.  Then  they  strapped  my  legs  to 
the  ladder.  The  warden  then  picked  up  the 
whip.  He  said  to  me, '  I'll  give  you  one  more 
chance  :  will  you  go  to  work  to-morrow  ?'  I 
said,  « No  ;  I  won't  go  to  work  till  I  get  my 
124 


THE  INMATE  OF  THE  DUNGEON 

dues.*  'Very  well,'  said  he,  'you'll  get  your 
dues  now.'  And  then  he  stepped  back  and 
raised  the  whip.  T  turned  my  head  and  looked 
at  him,  and  I  could  see  it  in  his  eyes  that  he 
meant  to  strike.  .  .  .  And  when  I  saw  that, 
sir,  I  felt  that  something  inside  of  me  was 
about  to  burst." 

The  convidl  paused  to  gather  up  his  strength 
for  the  crisis  of  his  story,  yet  not  in  the  least 
particular  did  he  change  his  position,  the  slight 
movement  of  his  pointing  finger,  the  steady 
gleam  of  his  eye,  or  the  slow  monotony  of  his 
speech.  I  had  never  witnessed  any  scene  so 
dramatic  as  this,  and  yet  all  was  absolutely 
simple  and  unintentional.  I  had  been  thrilled 
by  the  greatest  aftors,  as  with  matchless  skill 
they  gave  rein  to  their  genius  in  tragic  situa 
tions  ;  but  how  inconceivably  tawdry  and 
cheap  such  pictures  seemed  in  comparison  with 
this !  The  claptrap  of  the  music,  the  lights, 
the  posing,  the  wry  faces,  the  gasps,  lunges, 
staggerings,  rolling  eyes, — how  flimsy  aud 
colorless,  how  mocking  and  grotesque,  they 
all  appeared  beside  this  simple,  uncouth,  but 
genuine  expression  of  immeasurable  agony  ! 

The  stenographer  held  his  pencil  poised 
above  the  paper,  and  wrote  no  more. 

"  And  then  the  whip  came  down  across  my 
"5 


THE  INMATE  OF  THE  DUNGEON 

back.  The  something  inside  of  me  twisted 
hard  and  then  broke  wide  open,  and  went 
pouring  all  through  me  like  melted  iron.  It 
was  a  hard  fight  to  keep  my  head  clear,  but  I 
did  it.  And  then  I  said  to  the  warden  this : 
4  You've  struck  me  with  a  whip,  in  cold  blood. 
You've  tied  me  up  hand  and  foot,  to  whip  me 
like  a  dog.  Well,  whip  me,  then,  till  you  fill 
your  belly  with  it.  You  are  a  coward.  You 
are  lower,  and  meaner,  and  cowardlier  than  the 
lowest  and  meanest  dog  that  ever  yelped  when 
his  master  kicked  him.  You  were  born  a  cow 
ard.  Cowards  will  lie  and  steal,  and  you  are 
the  same  as  a  thief  and  liar.  No  hound  would 
own  you  for  a  friend.  Whip  me  hard  and  long, 
you  coward.  Whip  me,  I  say.  See  how  good 
a  coward  feels  when  he  ties  up  a  man  and 
whips  him  like  a  dog.  Whip  me  till  the  last 
breath  quits  my  body  •  if  you  leave  me  alive 
I  will  kill  you  for  this.' 

"  His  face  got  white.  He  asked  me  if  I 
meant  that,  and  I  said,  '  Yes  ;  before  God  I 
do.'  Then  he  took  the  whip  in  both  hands 
and  came  down  with  all  his  might." 

"  That  was  nearly  two  years  ago,"  said  the 
chairman.  "  You  would  not  kill  him  now, 
would  you  ?" 

"  Yes.  I  will  kill  him  if  I  get  a  chance  ; 
126 


THE  INMATE  OF  THE  DUNGEON 

and    I    feel    it    in    me    that    the    chance    will 
come." 

"Well,  proceed." 

"  He  kept  on  whipping  me.  He  whipped 
me  with  all  the  strength  of  both  hands.  I 
could  feel  the  broken  skin  curl  up  on  my 
back,  and  when  my  head  got  too  heavy  to 
hold  it  straight  it  hung  down,  and  I  saw  the 
blood  on  my  legs  and  dripping  off  my  toes 
into  a  pool  of  it  on  the  floor.  Something  was 
straining  and  twisting  inside  of  me  again.  My 
back  didn't  hurt  much  ;  it  was  the  thing  twist 
ing  inside  of  me  that  hurt.  I  counted  the 
lashes,  and  when  I  counted  to  twenty-eight 
the  twisting  got  so  hard  that  it  choked  me  and 
blinded  me  ;  .  .  .  and  when  I  woke  up  I  was 
in  the  dungeon  again,  and  the  doftor  had  my 
back  all  plastered  up,  and  he  was  kneeling 
beside  me,  feeling  my  pulse." 

The  prisoner  had  finished.  He  looked 
around  vaguely,  as  though  he  wanted  to  go. 

"  And  you  have  been  in  the  dungeon  ever 
since  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  but  I  don't  mind  that." 

"  How  long  ?" 

"  Twenty-three  months." 

"  On  bread  and  water  ?" 

"  Yes ;  but  that  was  all  I  wanted." 
127 


THE  INMATE  OF  THE  DUNGEON 

"  Have  you  refle&ed  that  so  long  as  you 
harbor  a  determination  to  kill  the  warden  you 
may  be  kept  in  the  dungeon  ?  You  can't  live 
much  longer  there,  and  if  you  die  there  you 
will  never  find  the  chance  you  want.  If  you 
say  you  will  not  kill  the  warden  he  may  return 
you  to  the  cells." 

"  But  that  would  be  a  lie,  sir  ;  I  will  get  a 
chance  to  kill  him  if  I  go  to  the  cells.  I 
would  rather  die  in  the  dungeon  than  be  a 
liar  and  sneak.  If  you  send  me  to  the  cells 
I  will  kill  him.  But  I  will  kill  him  without 
that.  I  will  kill  him,  sir.  .  .  .  And  he 
knows  it." 

Without  concealment,  but  open,  deliberate, 
and  implacable,  thus  in  the  wrecked  frame  of 
a  man,  so  close  that  we  could  have  touched  it, 
stood  Murder, — not  boastful,  but  relentless  as 
death. 

"  Apart  from  weakness,  is  your  health 
good?"  asked  the  chairman. 

"  Oh,  it's  good  enough,"  wearily  answered 
the  convift.  "  Sometimes  the  twisting  comes 
on,  but  when  I  wake  up  after  it  I'm  all 
right." 

The  prison  surgeon,  under  the  chairman's 
direction,  put  his  ear  to  the  convicYs  chest,  and 
then  went  over  and  whispered  to  the  chairman. 
128 


THE  INMATE  OF  THE  DUNGEON 

"  I  thought  so,"  said  that  gentleman.  "  Now, 
take  this  man  to  the  hospital.  Put  him  to  bed 
where  the  sun  will  shine  on  him,  and  give  him 
the  most  nourishing  food." 

The  convift,  giving  no  heed  to  this, 
shambled  out  with  a  guard  and  the  surgeon. 

The  warden  sat  alone  in  the  prison  office 
with  No.  14,208.  That  he  at  last  should 
have  been  brought  face  to  face,  and  alone, 
with  the  man  whom  he  had  determined  to 
kill,  perplexed  the  convift.  He  was  not  man 
acled  ;  the  door  was  locked,  and  the  key  lay 
on  the  table  between  the  two  men.  Three 
weeks  in  the  hospital  had  proved  beneficial, 
but  a  deathly  pallor  was  still  in  his  face. 

"  The  aftion  of  the  directors  three  weeks 
ago,"  said  the  warden,  "  made  my  resignation 
necessary.  I  have  awaited  the  appointment 
of  my  successor,  who  is  now  in  charge.  I 
leave  the  prison  to-day.  In  the  mean  time,  I 
have  something  to  tell  you  that  will  interest 
you.  A  few  days  ago  a  man  who  was  dis 
charged  from  the  prison  last  year  read  what 
the  papers  have  published  recently  about 
your  case,  and  he  has  written  to  me  confessing 
that  it  was  he  who  got  your  tobacco  from  the 
captain  of  the  guard.  His  name  is  Salter, 


THE  INMATE  OF  THE  DUNGEON 

and  he  looks  very  much  like  you.  He  had  got 
his  own  extra,  and  when  he  came  up  again  and 
called  for  yours  the  captain,  thinking  it  was 
you,  gave  it  to  him.  There  was  no  intention 
on  the  captain's  part  to  rob  you." 

The  convift  gasped  and  leaned  forward 
eagerly. 

"  Until  the  receipt  of  this  letter,"  resumed 
the  warden,  "  I  had  opposed  the  movement 
which  had  been  started  for  your  pardon ;  but 
when  this  letter  came  I  recommended  your 
pardon,  and  it  has  been  granted.  Besides,  you 
have  a  serious  heart  trouble.  So  you  are  now 
discharged  from  the  prison." 

The  convict  stared  and  leaned  back  speech 
less.  His  eyes  shone  with  a  strange,  glassy 
expression,  and  his  white  teeth  glistened 
ominously  between  his  parted  lips.  Yet  a 
certain  painful  softness  tempered  the  iron  in 
his  face. 

"  The  stage  will  leave  for  the  station  in  four 
hours,"  continued  the  warden.  "  You  have 
made  certain  threats  against  my  life."  The 
warden  paused  ;  then,  in  a  voice  that  slightly 
wavered  from  emotion,  he  continued :  "  I 
shall  not  permit  your  intentions  in  that  regard 
— for  I  care  nothing  about  them — to  prevent 
me  from  discharging  a  duty  which,  as  from  one 
130 


THE  INMATE  OF  THE  DUNGEON 

man  to  another,  I  owe  you.  I  have  treated 
you  with  a  cruelty  the  enormity  of  which  I 
now  comprehend.  I  thought  I  was  right.  My 
fatal  mistake  was  in  not  understanding  your 
nature.  I  misconstrued  your  conduit  from  the 
beginning,  and  in  doing  so  I  have  laid  upon 
my  conscience  a  burden  which  will  embitter 
the  remaining  years  of  my  life.  I  would  do 
anything  in  my  power,  if  it  were  not  too  late, 
to  atone  for  the  wrong  I  have  done  you.  If, 
before  I  sent  you  to  the  dungeon,  I  could  have 
understood  the  wrong  and  foreseen  its  conse 
quences,  I  would  cheerfully  have  taken  my 
own  life  rather  than  raised  a  hand  against  you. 
The  lives  of  us  both  have  been  wrecked ;  but 
your  suffering  is  in  the  past, — mine  is  present, 
and  will  cease  only  with  my  life.  For  my 
life  is  a  curse,  and  I  prefer  not  to  keep  it." 

With  that  the  warden,  very  pale,  but  with 
a  clear  purpose  in  his  face,  took  a  loaded  re 
volver  from  a  drawer  and  laid  it  before  the 
convift. 

"  Now  is  your  chance,"  he  said,  quietly  : 
"no  one  can  hinder  you." 

The  convicT:  gasped  and  shrank  away  from 
the  weapon  as  from  a  viper. 

"Not  yet — not  yet,"  he  whispered,  in 
agony. 


THE  INMATE  OF  THE  DUNGEON 

The  two  men  sat  and  regarded  each  other 
without  the  movement  of  a  muscle. 

"  Are  you  afraid  to  do  it  ?"  asked  the  war 
den. 

A  momentary  light  flashed  in  the  convicVs 
eyes. 

"  No  !"  he  gasped  ;  "  you  know  I  am  not. 
But  I  can't  — not  yet,  -not  yet." 

The  convift,  whose  ghastly  pallor,  glassy 
eyes,  and  gleaming  teeth  sat  like  a  mask  of 
death  upon  his  face,  staggered  to  his  feet. 

"  You  have  done  it  at  last !  you  have  broken 
my  spirit.  A  human  word  has  done  what  the 
dungeon  and  the  whip  could  not  do.  ...  It 
twists  inside  of  me  now.  ...  I  could  be 
your  slave  for  that  human  word."  Tears 
streamed  from  his  eyes.  "  I  can't  help  crying. 
I'm  only  a  baby,  after  all  — and  I  thought  I  was 
a  man." 

He  reeled,  and  the  warden  caught  him  and 
seated  him  in  the  chair.  He  took  the  con 
vict's  hand  in  his  and  felt  a  firm,  true  pressure 
there.  The  convift's  eyes  rolled  vacantly. 
A  spasm  of  pain  caused  him  to  raise  his  free 
hand  to  his  chest;  his  thin,  gnarled  fingers  — 
made  shapeless  by  long  use  in  the  slit  of 
the  dungeon-door — clutched  automatically  at 
his  shirt.  A  faint,  hard  smile  wrinkled  his 
132 


THE  INMATE  OF  THE  DUNGEON 

wan  face,  displaying  the  gleaming  teeth  more 
freely. 

"  That  human  word,"  he  whispered, — 
"if  you  had  spoken  it  long  ago, — if  — but  it's 
all— it's  all  right — now.  I'll  go — I'll  go  to 
work — to-morrow." 

There  was  a  slightly  firmer  pressure  of  the 
hand  that  held  the  warden's ;  then  it  relaxed. 
The  fingers  which  clutched  the  shirt  slipped 
away,  and  the  hand  dropped  to  his  side.  The 
weary  head  sank  back  and  rested  on  the  chair  ; 
the  strange,  hard  smile  still  sat  upon  the  mar 
ble  face,  and  a  dead  man's  glassy  eyes  and 
gleaming  teeth  were  upturned  towards  the 
ceiling. 


133 


A  Game  of  Honor 


FOUR  of  the  five  men  who  sat  around  the 
card-table  in  the  cabin  of  the  "  Merry 
Witch"  regarded  the  fifth  man  with  a  steady, 
implacable  look  of  scorn.  The  solitary  one 
could  not  face  that  terrible  glance.  His  head 
drooped,  and  his  gaze  rested  upon  some  cards 
which  he  idly  fumbled  as  he  waited,  numbed 
and  listless,  to  hear  his  sentence. 

The  more  masterful  one  of  the  four  made 
a  disdainful  gesture  towards  the  craven  one,  and 
thus  addressed  the  others  : 

"  Gentlemen,  none  of  us  can  have  forgotten 
the  terms  of  our  compact.  It  was  agreed  at 
the  beginning  of  this  expedition  that  only  men 
of  unflinching  integrity  should  be  permitted  to 
participate  in  its  known  dangers  and  possible 
rewards.  To  find  and  secure  the  magnificent 
treasure  which  we  are  seeking  with  a  sure  pros- 
peel:  of  discovering  it,  we  must  run  the  risk  of 
encounters  with  savage  Mexican  soldiers  and 
marines,  and  take  all  the  other  dangerous 
134 


A    GAME   OF   HONOR 

chances  of  which  you  are  aware.  As  the  char 
terer  of  this  vessel  and  the  leader  of  the  ex 
pedition  I  have  exercised  extraordinary  care 
in  selecting  my  associates.  We  have  been  and 
still  are  equals,  and  my  leadership  as  the  out 
fitter  of  the  expedition  gives  me  no  advantage 
in  the  sharing  of  the  treasure.  As  such  leader, 
however,  I  am  in  authority,  and  have  employed, 
unsuspected  by  you,  many  devices  to  test  the 
manhood  of  each  of  you.  Were  it  not  for 
the  faft  that  I  have  exhausted  all  reasonable 
resources  to  this  end,  and  have  found  all  of 
you  trustworthy  except  one,  I  would  not  now 
be  disclosing  the  plan  which  I  have  been  pur 
suing." 

The  three  others,  who  had  been  gazing  at 
the  crestfallen  one,  now  stared  at  their  leader 
with  a  startled  interest. 

"  The  final  test  of  a  man's  character,"  calmly 
pursued  the  leader,  "  is  the  card-table.  What 
ever  there  may  be  in  him  of  weakness,  whether 
it  be  a  mean  avarice,  cowardice,  or  a  deceitful 
disposition,  will  there  inevitably  appear.  If  I 
were  the  president  of  a  bank,  the  general  of 
an  army,  or  the  leader  of  any  other  great  en 
terprise  I  would  make  it  a  point  to  test  the 
character  of  my  subordinates  in  a  series  of 
games  at  cards,  preferably  played  for  money. 
135 


A    GAME   OF   HONOR 

It  is  the  only  sure  test  of  character  that 
the  wisdom  of  the  ages  has  been  able  to 
devise." 

He  paused,  and  then  turned  his  scornful 
glance  upon  the  cringing  man,  who  meanwhile 
had  mustered  courage  to  look  up,  and  was  em 
ploying  his  eyes  as  well  as  his  ears  to  compre 
hend  the  strange  philosophy  of  his  judge. 
Terror  and  dismay  were  elements  of  the  ex 
pression  which  curiously  wrinkled  his  white 
face,  as  though  he  found  himself  standing  be 
fore  a  court  of  inscrutable  wisdom  and  relent 
less  justice.  But  his  glance  fell  instantly  when 
it  encountered  that  of  his  judge,  and  his  weak 
lower  lip  hung  trembling. 

"  We  have  all  agreed,"  impressively  con 
tinued  the  leader,  "  that  the  one  found  guilty 
of  deceiving  or  betraying  the  others  to  the  very 
smallest  extent  should  pay  the  penalty  which 
we  are  all  sworn  to  exadl.  A  part  of  this 
agreement,  as  we  all  remember,  is  that  the  one 
found  derelict  shall  be  the  first  to  insist  on  the 
visitation  of  the  penalty,  and  that  should  he 
fail  to  do  so — but  I  trust  that  it  is  unnecessary 
to  mention  the  alternative." 

There  was  another  pause,  and  the  culprit  sat 
still,  hardly  breathing,  and  permitting  the  cards 
to  slip  from  his  fingers  to  the  floor. 
136 


A   GAME   OF   HONOR 

"  Mr.  Rossiter,"  said  the  leader,  addressing 
the  hapless  man  in  a  tone  so  hard  and  cold  that 
it  congealed  the  marrow  which  it  pierced, 
"  have  you  any  suggestion  to  make  ?" 

The  doomed  man  made  such  a  pitiful  strug 
gle  for  self-mastery  as  the  gallows  often  reveals. 
If  there  was  a  momentary  flash  of  hope  based 
on  a  transient  determination  to  plead,  it  faded 
instantly  before  the  stern  and  implacable  eyes 
that  greeted  him  from  all  sides  of  the  table. 
Certainly  there  was  a  fierce  struggle  under 
which  his  soul  writhed,  and  which  showed  in 
a  passing  flush  that  crimsoned  his  face.  That 
went  by,  and  an  acceptance  of  doom  sat  upon 
him.  He  raised  his  head  and  looked  firmly  at 
the  leader,  and  as  he  did  so  his  chest  expanded 
and  his  shoulders  squared  bravely. 

"  Captain,"  said  he,  with  a  very  good  voice, 
"  whatever  else  I  may  be,  I  am  not  a  coward. 
I  have  cheated.  In  doing  so  I  have  betrayed 
the  confidence  of  all.  I  remember  the  terms 
of  the  compadt.  Will  you  kindly  summon  the 
skipper  ?" 

Without  any  change  of  countenance,  the 
leader  complied. 

"  Mr.  Rossiter,"  he  said  to  the  skipper,  "  has 
a  request  to  make  of  you,  and  whatever  it  may 
be  I  authorize  you  to  comply  with  it." 
137 


A    GAME    OF   HONOR 

"  I  wish,"  asked  Mr.  Rossiter  of  the  skip 
per,  "  that  you  would  lower  a  boat  and  put 
me  aboard,  and  that  you  would  furnish  the 
boat  with  one  oar  and  nothing  else  what 
ever." 

"  Why,"  exclaimed  the  skipper,  aghast, 
looking  in  dismay  from  one  to  another  of  the 
men,  "  the  man  is  insane  !  There  is  no  land 
within  five  hundred  miles.  We  are  in  the 
tropics,  and  a  man  couldn't  live  four  days  with 
out  food  or  water,  and  the  sea  is  alive  with 
sharks.  Why,  this  is  suicide  !" 

The  leader's  face  darkened,  but  before  he 
could  speak  Mr.  Rossiter  calmly  remarked, — 

"  That  is  my  own  affair,  sir  ;"  and  there  was 
a  fine  ring  in  his  voice. 


The  man  in  the  boat,  bareheaded  and 
stripped  nearly  naked  in  the  broiling  sun,  was 
thus  addressing  something  which  he  saw  close 
at  hand  in  the  water : 

"  Let  me  see.  Yes,  I  think  it  is  about  four 
days  now  that  we  have  travelled  together,  but 
I  am  not  very  positive  about  that.  You  see, 
if  it  hadn't  been  for  you  I  should  have  died 
of  loneliness.  .  .  .  Say !  aren't  you  hungry, 
too  ?  I  was  a  few  days  ago,  but  I'm  only  thirsty 
138 


A   GAME   OF   HONOR 

now.  You've  got  the  advantage  of  me,  be 
cause  you  don't  get  thirsty.  As  for  your  being 
hungry — ha,  ha,  ha  !  Who  ever  heard  of  a 
shark  that  wasn't  always  hungry  ?  Oh,  I  know 
well  enough  what's  in  your  mind,  companion 
mine,  but  there's  time  enough  for  that.  I  hate 
to  disturb  the  pleasant  relation  which  exists 
between  us  at  present.  That  is  to  say — now, 
here  is  a  witticism — I  prefer  the  outside  rela 
tion  to  the  inside  intimacy.  Ha,  ha,  ha !  I 
knew  you'd  laugh  at  that,  you  sly  old  rogue  ! 
What  a  very  sly,  patient  old  shark  you  are  ! 
Don't  you  know  that  if  you  didn't  have  those 
clumsy  fins,  and  that  dreadfully  homely  mouth 
away  down  somewhere  on  the  under  side  of 
your  body,  and  eyes  so  grotesquely  wide  apart, 
and  should  go  on  land  and  match  your  wit 
against  the  various  and  amusing  species  of 
sharks  which  abound  there,  your  patience  in 
pursuing  a  manifest  advantage  would  make  you 
a  millionaire  in  a  year  ?  Can  you  get  that 
philosophy  through  your  thick  skull,  my 
friend  ? 

"  There,  there,  there !  Don't  turn  over 
like  that  and  make  a  fool  of  yourself  by  open 
ing  your  pretty  mouth  and  dazzling  the  mid 
day  sun  with  the  gleam  of  your  white  belly. 
I'm  not  ready  yet.  God  !  how  thirsty  I  am  ! 
139 


A   GAME   OF   HONOR 

Say,  did  you  ever  feel  like  that  ?  Did  you  ever 
see  blinding  flashes  that  tear  through  your 
brain  and  turn  the  sun  black  ? 

"  You  haven't  answered  my  question  yet. 
It's  a  hypothetical  question — yes,  hypotheti 
cal.  I'm  sure  that's  what  I  want  to  say.  Hy 
po — hypothetical  question.  Question ;  yes, 
that's  right.  Now,  suppose  you'd  been  a 
pretty  wild  young  shark,  and  had  kept  your 
mother  anxious  and  miserable,  and  had  drifted 
into  gambling  and  had  gone  pretty  well  to  the 
dogs.  Do  sharks  ever  go  to  the  dogs  ?  Now, 
that's  a  poser.  Sharks  ;  dogs.  Oh,  what  a 
very  ridiculously,  sublimely  amusing  old  shark  ! 
Dreadfully  discreet  you  are.  Never  disclose 
your  hand  except  on  a  showdown.  What  a 
glum  old  villain  you  are  ! 

"  Pretty  well  to  the  dogs,  and  then  braced 
up  and  left  home  to  make  a  man  of  yourself. 
Think  of  a  shark  making  a  man  of  himself! 
And  then — easy  there  !  Don't  get  excited.  I 
only  staggered  that  time  and  didn't  quite  go 
overboard.  And  don't  let  my  gesticulations 
excite  you.  Keep  your  mouth  shut,  my  friend  ; 
you're  not  pretty  when  you  smile  like  that. 
As  I  was  saying — oh  !  .  .  . 

"  How  long  was  I  that  way,  old  fellow  ? 
Good  thing  for  me  that  you  don't  know  how 
140 


A   GAME   OF   HONOR 

to  climb  into  a  boat  when  a  fellow  is  that  way. 
Were  you  ever  that  way,  partner  ?  Come  on 
like  this:  Biff!  Big  blaze  of  red  fire  in  your 
head.  Then — then — well,  after  awhile  you 
come  out  of  it,  with  the  queerest  and  crooked- 
est  of  augers  boring  through  your  head,  and  a 
million  tadpoles  of  white  fire  darting  in  every 
direction  through  the  air.  Don't  ever  get  that 
way,  my  friend,  if  you  can  possibly  keep  out 
of  it.  But  then,  you  never  get  thirsty.  Let 
me  see.  The  sun  was  over  there  when  the 
red  fire  struck,  and  it's  over  here  now. 
Shifted  about  thirty  degrees.  Then,  I  was 
that  way  about  two  hours. 

"  Where  are  those  dogs  ?  Do  they  come  to 
you  or  do  you  go  to  them  ?  That  depends. 
Now,  say  you  had  some  friends  that  wanted  to 
do  you  a  good  turn  ;  wanted  to  straighten  you 
up  and  make  a  man  of  you.  They  had  ascer 
tained  the  exact  situation  of  a  wonderful  treas 
ure  buried  in  an  island  of  the  Pacific.  All 
right.  They  knew  you  had  some  of  the  qual 
ities  useful  for  such  an  expedition — reckless 
dare-devil,  afraid  of  nothing — things  like  that. 
Understand,  my  friend  ?  Well,  all  swore  oaths 
as  long  as  your  leg — as  long  as  your — oh,  my  ! 
Think  of  a  shark  having  a  leg  !  Ha,  ha,  ha ! 
Long  as  your  leg  !  Oh,  my  !  Pardon  my  lev- 
141 


A    GAME   OF   HONOR 

ity,  old  man,  but  I  must  laugh.  Ha,  ha,  ha ! 
Oh,  my  ! 

"  All  of  you  swore — you  and  the  other 
sharks.  No  lying  ;  no  deceit ;  no  swindling. 
First  shark  that  makes  a  slip  is  to  call  the  skip 
per  and  be  sent  adrift  with  one  oar  and  noth 
ing  else.  And  all,  my  friend,  after  you  had 
pledged  your  honor  to  your  mother,  your  God, 
yourself,  and  your  friends,  to  be  a  true  and 
honorable  shark.  It  isn't  the  hot  sun  broiling 
you  and  covering  you  with  bursting  blisters, 
and  changing  the  marrow  of  your  bones  to 
melted  iron  and  your  blood  to  hissing  lava — 
it  isn't  the  sun  that  hurts  ;  and  the  hunger  that 
gnaws  your  intestines  to  rags,  and  the  thirst 
that  changes  your  throat  into  a  funnel  of  hot 
brass,  and  blinding  bursts  of  red  fire  in  your 
head,  and  lying  dead  in  the  waist  of  the  boat 
while  the  sun  steals  thirty  degrees  of  time  out 
the  sky,  and  a  million  fiery  tadpoles  darting 
through  the  air — none  of  them  hurts  so  much 
as  something  infinitely  deeper  and  more  cruel, 
— your  broken  pledge  of  honor  to  your  mother, 
your  God,  yourself,  and  your  friends.  That 
is  what  hurts,  my  friend. 

"  It  is  late,  old  man,  to  begin  life  all  over 
again  while  you  are  in  the  article  of  death,  and 
resolve  to  be  good  when  it  is  no  longer  possible 
142 


A    GAME   OF   HONOR 

to  be  bad.  But  that  is  our  affair,  yours  and 
mine ;  and  just  at  this  time  we  are  not  choos 
ing  to  discuss  the  utility  of  goodness.  But  I 
don't  like  that  sneer  in  your  glance.  I  have 
only  one  oar,  and  I  will  cheerfully  break  it 
over  your  wretched  head  if  you  come  a  yard 
nearer.  .  .  . 

"  Aha !  Thought  I  was  going  over,  eh  ? 
See ;  I  can  stand  steady  when  I  try.  But  I 
don't  like  that  sneer  in  your  eyes.  You 
don't  believe  in  the  reformation  of  the  dying, 
eh  ?  You  are  a  contemptible  dog ;  a  low, 
mean,  outcast  dog.  You  sneer  at  the  declara 
tion  of  a  man  that  he  can  and  will  be  honest 
at  last  and  face  his  Maker  humbly,  but  still  as 
a  man.  Come,  then,  my  friend,  and  let  us  see 
which  of  us  two  is  the  decent  and  honorable 
one.  Stake  your  manhood  against  mine,  and 
stake  your  life  with  your  manhood.  We'll  see 
which  is  the  more  honorable  of  the  two ;  for 
I  tell  you  now,  Mr.  Shark,  that  we  are  going 
to  gamble  for  our  lives  and  our  honor. 

"  Come  up  closer  and  watch  the  throw. 
No  ?  Afraid  of  the  oar  ?  You  sneaking  cow 
ard  !  You  would  be  a  decent  shark  at  last  did 
the  oar  but  split  your  skull.  See  this  visiting 
card,  you  villain  ?  Look  at  it  as  I  hold  it  up. 
There  is  printing  on  one  side ;  that  is  my 
143 


A    GAME   OF    HONOR 

name  ;  it  is  I.  The  other  side  is  blank  ;  that 
is  you.  Now,  I  am  going  to  throw  this  into 
the  water.  If  it  falls  name  up,  I  win  ;  if  blank 
side  up,  you  win.  If  I  win,  I  eat  you;  if  you 
win,  you  eat  me.  Is  that  a  go  ? 

"  Hold  on.  You  see,  I  can  throw  a  card  so 
as  to  bring  uppermost  either  side  1  please. 
That  wouldn't  be  fair.  For  this,  the  last  game 
of  my  life,  is  to  be  square.  So  I  fold  one  end 
down  on  this  side,  and  the  other  down  on  that 
side.  When  you  throw  a  card  folded  like  that 
no  living  shark,  whether  he  have  legs  or  only 
a  tail,  can  know  which  side  will  fall  upper 
most.  That  is  a  square  game,  old  man,  and  it 
will  settle  the  little  difference  that  has  existed 
between  you  and  me  for  four  days  past — a  dif 
ference  of  ten  or  fifteen  feet. 

"  Mind  you,  if  I  win,  you  are  to  come  along 
side  the  boat  and  I  am  to  kill  you  and  eat 
you.  That  may  sustain  my  life  until  I  am 
picked  up.  If  you  win,  over  I  go  and  you  eat 
me.  Are  you  in  the  game  ?  Well,  here  goes, 
then,  for  life  or  death.  .  .  .  Ah  !  you  have 
won  !  And  this  is  a  game  of  honor !" 

J{J  %.  *  %.  ^J  %.  %. 

A   black-smoking  steamer  was  steadily  ap 
proaching  the  drifting    boat,  for  the  lookout 
had  reported  the  discovery,  and  the  steamer 
144 


A    GAME   OF   HONOR 

was  bearing  down  to  lend  succor.  The  cap 
tain,  standing  on  the  bridge,  saw  through  his 
glass  a  wild  and  nearly  naked  man  making 
the  most  extraordinary  signs  and  gestures,  stag 
gering  and  lurching  in  imminent  danger  of 
falling  overboard.  When  the  ship  had  ap 
proached  quite  near  the  captain  saw  the  man 
toss  a  card  into  the  water,  and  then  stand  with 
an  ominous  rigidity,  the  meaning  of  which  was 
unmistakable.  He  sounded  a  blast  from  the 
whistle,  and  the  drifting  man  started  violently 
and  turned  to  see  the  steamer  approaching, 
and  observed  hasty  preparations  for  the  lower 
ing  of  a  boat.  The  outcast  stood  immovable, 
watching  the  strange  apparition,  which  seemed 
to  have  sprung  out  of  the  ocean. 

The  boat  touched  the  water  and  shot  lustily 
forward. 

"  Pull  with  all  your  might,  lads,  for  the  man 
is  insane,  and  is  preparing  to  leap  overboard. 
A  big  shark  is  lying  in  wait  for  him,  and  the 
moment  he  touches  the  water  he  is  gone." 

The  men  did  pull  with  all  their  might  and 
hallooed  to  the  drifting  one  and  warned  him 
of  the  shark. 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  they  cried,  "  and  we'll 
take  you  on  the  ship  !" 

The  purpose  of   the    men    seemed  at  last 


A    GAME   OF   HONOR 

to  have  dawned  upon  the  understanding  of 
the  outcast.  He  straightened  himself  as  well 
as  he  could  into  a  wretched  semblance  of  dig 
nity,  and  hoarsely  replied, — 

"  No  ;  I  have  played  a  game  and  lost ;  an 
honest  man  will  pay  a  debt  of  honor." 

And  with  such  a  light  in  his  eyes  as  comes 
only  into  those  whose  vision  has  penetrated 
the  most  wonderful  of  all  mysteries,  he 
leaped  forth  into  the  sea. 


Treacherous  Velasco 


OITTING  at  the  open  window  of  her 
w^3  room  in  the  upper  story  of  the  farm 
house,  on  the  Rancho  San  Gregorio,  Sefiora 
Violante  Ovando  de  McPherson  watched,  with 
the  deepest  interest,  a  cloud  of  dust  which  rose 
in  the  still  May  air  far  down  the  valley  ;  for  it 
was  evident  that  the  color  in  her  cheeks  and 
the  sparkle  in  her  violet-black  eyes  spoke  a  lan 
guage  of  devotion  and  happiness.  Her  husband 
was  coming  home,  and  with  him  his  vaqueros, 
after  a  tedious  drive  of  cattle  to  San  Francisco. 
He  had  been  gone  but  a  month  ;  but  what  an 
interminable  absence  that  is  to  a  wife  of  a  year  ! 
She  had  watched  the  fading  of  the  wild  golden 
poppies  ;  she  had  seen  the  busy  workers  of 
the  bee-hives  laying  up  their  stores  of  honey 
culled  from  the  myriads  of  flowers  which  car 
peted  the  valley  ;  and  she  had  ridden  over  the 
Gabilan  Hills  to  see  the  thousands  of  her  hus 
band's  cattle  which  dotted  them.  She  had 
been  respeftful  of  her  housekeeping  duties, 


TREACHEROUS   VELASCO 

and  had  directed  Alice,  the  sewing-girl,  in  the 
making  of  garments  for  the  approaching  hot 
season.  Yet,  busy  as  she  thought  she  was,  and 
important  as  she  imagined  herself  to  be  in  the 
management  of  the  great  ranch,  time  had 
dragged  itself  by  in  manacles.  But  now  was 
coming  the  cloud  of  dust  to  lift  the  cloud  of 
loneliness  ;  and  if  ever  a  young  wife's  heart 
quickened  with  gladness,  it  was  hers. 

Presently  the  fine  young  Scotchman  leaped 
from  his  horse,  clasped  his  wife  in  his  arms, 
asked  a  few  hurried  questions  concerning  her 
welfare  during  his  absence,  untied  a  small  buck 
skin  bag  which  depended  from  the  pommel  of 
his  saddle,  and,  remarking,  "  I  thought  you 
might  need  some  spending-money,  Violante," 
held  up  the  bag  containing  gold,  containing  a 
hundred  times  more  gold  than  her  simple 
tastes  and  restricted  opportunities  would  per 
mit  her  to  employ.  But  was  not  her  Robert 
the  most  generous  of  men  ?  Other  eyes  than 
hers  saw  it — those  of  Basilio  Velasco,  one  of 
the  vaqueros;  a  small,  swarthy  man,  with  the 
blackest  and  sharpest  of  eyes,  in  which  just 
then  was  a  strange  glitter. 

What  a  handsome  couple  were  the  young 
husband  and  wife,  as,  arm-in-arm,  they  entered 
the  house — he  so  large,  and  red,  and  masculine; 
148 


TREACHEROUS   VELASCO 

she  so  dark,  and  reliant,  and  feminine  !  Beauti 
ful  Spanish  girls  were  plentiful  in  those  youth 
ful  days  of  California ;  but  Violante  had  been 
known  as  the  most  beautiful  of  all  the  maidens 
between  the  Santa  Barbara  Channel  and  the 
Bay  of  Monterey.  Hard-headed  and  fiery- 
tempered  Scotch  Presbyterian;  gentle,  patient, 
and  faithful  Catholic  ;  they  were  the  happiest 
and  most  devoted  of  couples. 

"  Well,  little  Violante,"  he  said,  "  take  the 
bag  up  to  your  room,  and  give  us  dinner ;  for 
before  we  rest  we  must  ride  over  to  the  range 
and  look  after  the  cattle,  and  after  that  you  and 
I  shall  have  a  good,  long  visit." 

These  pleasant  duties  were  quickly  dis 
patched,  and  the  dusty  men,  led  by  her  hus 
band,  galloped  away.  From  the  open  window 
of  her  room  she  saw  the  receding  cloud  of 
dust,  wondering  at  that  urgent  sense  of  duty 
which  could  make  so  fond  a  husband  leave  her, 
even  though  for  a  short  time,  after  so  long  a 
separation.  Thus  she  sat,  dreamily  thinking 
of  her  great  happiness  in  having  him  once 
again  at  home,  and  drinking  in  the  rich  per 
fume  of  the  racemes  of  wistaria-blossoms  which 
covered  the  massive  vine  against  the  house. 
This  old  vine,  springing  from  the  ground  be 
neath  the  window  at  which  she  sat,  spread  its 
149 


TREACHEROUS   VELASCO 

long  arms  almost  completely  over  that  part  of 
the  wall,  divided  on  either  side  for  the  window, 
and  hung  gracefully  from  beneath  the  eaves, 
embowering  their  lovely  owner  in  a  tangled 
mass  of  purple  blossoms.  It  was  an  exquisite 
pifture — the  pretty  wife  sitting  there,  in  the 
whitest  of  lawns,  looking  out  over  the  hills 
from  this  frame  of  gorgeous  flowers — all  the 
more  charming  from  her  unconsciousness  of 
its  beauty.  Behind  her,  at  the  opposite  side 
of  the  room,  sat  her  maid,  Alice,  sewing  in 
silence. 

As  the  senora  looked  dreamily  over  the 
hills,  she  became  aware  of  the  peculiar  aftions 
of  a  man  on  horseback,  who  was  approaching 
the  house  from  the  direction  in  which  her  hus 
band  and  the  vaqueros  had  disappeared.  That 
which  summoned  her  attention  was  the  fa6l 
that  the  man  was  approaching  by  an  irregular 
route,  which  no  ordinary  circumstance  would 
have  required.  He  had  such  a  way  of  keep 
ing  behind  the  trees  that  she  could  not  deter 
mine  his  identity.  It  looked  strange  and  mys 
terious,  and  something  impelled  her  to  drop 
the  lace  curtain  over  the  window,  for  behind 
it  she  could  watch  without  danger  of  being 
seen. 

The  horseman  disappeared,  and  this  made 
150 


TREACHEROUS   VELASCO 

her  uneasiness  all  the  greater,  but  she  said 
nothing  to  Alice.  Soon  she  noticed  the  man 
on  foot  approaching  the  house,  in  a  watchful, 
skulking  fashion,  slipping  from  one  tree  or  one 
bit  of  shrubbery  to  another.  Then,  with  a 
swift  run,  he  came  near,  and,  stealthily  and 
noiselessly  as  a  cat,  began  to  ascend  to  her  win 
dow  by  clambering  up  the  wistaria-vine.  Her 
spirit  quailed  and  her  cheeks  blanched  when 
she  saw  the  naked  blade  of  a  dagger  held  be 
tween  his  teeth.  She  understood  his  mission 
— it  was  her  life  and  the  gold ;  and  the  glit 
tering  eyes  of  the  robber  she  recognized  as 
those  of  Basilio  Velasco.  After  a  moment  of 
nerveless  terror  the  ancient  resisting  blood  of 
the  Ovandos  sprang  into  alert  activity,  and  this 
gentlest  and  sweetest  of  young  women  armed 
her  soul  to  meet  Death  on  his  own  ground 
and  his  own  terms,  and  try  the  issue  with 
him. 

She  gave  no  alarm,  for  there  was  none  in 
the  house  except  herself  and  Alice.  To  have 
given  way  to  fear  would  have  destroyed  her 
only  hope  of  life.  Quietly,  in  a  low  tone, 
she  said, — 

"  Alice,  listen,  but  do  not  say  a  word." 
There  was  an  impressiveness  in  her  manner 
that  startled  the  nervous,  timid  girl ;  but  there 


TREACHEROUS   VELASCO 

were  also  in  it  a  strength  and  a  self-reliance 
that  reassured  her.  She  dropped  her  work 
and  regarded  her  mistress  with  wonder.  "  Look 
in  the  second  drawer  of  the  bureau.  You  will 
find  a  pistol  there.  Bring  it  to  me  quickly, 
without  a  word,  for  a  man  is  clambering  up  the 
vine  under  my  window  to  rob  me,  and  if  we 
make  any  outcry  or  lose  our  heads  we  are 
dead.  Place  full  confidence  in  me,  and  it  will 
be  all  right." 

Alice,  numb  and  nervous  with  fear,  found 
the  pistol  and  brought  it  to  her  mistress. 

"  Go  and  sit  down  and  keep  quiet,"  she  was 
told  ;  and  this  she  did. 

Violante,  seeing  that  the  weapon  was  loaded, 
cocked  it,  and  glanced  out  the  window.  Ba- 
silio  was  climbing  very  slowly  and  carefully, 
fearing  that  the  least  disturbance  of  the  vine 
would  alarm  the  sefiora.  When  he  had  come 
sufficiently  near  to  make  her  aim  sure, Violante 
suddenly  thrust  aside  the  curtain,  leaned  out 
the  window,  and  brought  the  barrel  of  the 
weapon  in  line  with  Velasco's  head. 

"  What  do  you  want,  Basilio  ?"  she  asked. 

Hearing  the  musical  voice,  the  Spaniard 
quickly  looked  up.  Had  the  bullet  then  im 
prisoned  in  the  weapon  been  sent  crashing 
through  his  vitals,  he  would  have  received 
152 


TREACHEROUS   VELASCO 

hardly  a  greater  shock  than  that  which  quiv 
ered  through  his  nerves  when  he  saw  the 
black  barrel  of  the  pistol,  the  small  but  steady 
hand  which  held  it  aimed  at  his  brain,  and  the 
pale  and  beauti  ul  face  above  it.  Thus  hold 
ing  the  robber  at  her  mercy,  she  said  firmly  to 
the  girl, — 

"  Alice,  there  is  nothing  to  fear  now.  Run 
as  fast  as  you  can  to  the  west  end  of  the  house, 
about  a  hundred  yards  away,  and  you  will 
find  this  man's  horse  tied  there  somewhere  in 
the  shrubbery.  Mount  it,  and  ride  as  fast  as 
God  will  let  you.  Find  my  husband,  and  tell 
him  I  have  a  robber  as  prisoner." 

The  girl,  almost  fainting,  passed  out  of  the 
room,  found  the  horse,  and  galloped  away, 
leaving  these  two  mortal  enemies  facing  each 
other. 

Velasco  had  heard  all  this,  and  he  heard  the 
horse  clattering  up  the  road  to  the  range  be 
yond  the  hills  of  Gabilan.  The  pifture  of  a 
fierce  and  angry  young  Scotchman  dashing  up 
to  the  house  and  slaying  him  without  a  parley 
needed  no  elaboration  in  his  dazed  imagination. 
He  gazed  steadily  at  the  senora  and  she  at 
him  ;  and,  while  he  saw  a  strange  pity  and  a 
sorrow  in  her  glance,  he  saw  also  an  unyielding 
determination.  He  could  not  speak,  for  the 
153 


TREACHEROUS   VELASCO 

£nife  between  his  teeth  held  his  tongue  a  pris 
oner.  If  only  he  could  plead  with  her  and 
beg  for  his  life  ! 

"  Basilic,"  she  quietly  said,  seeing  that  he 
was  preparing  to  release  one  hand  by  finding 
a  firmer  hold  for  the  other,  "if  you  take  either 
of  your  hands  away  from  the  vine  I  will  shoot 
you.  Keep  perfectly  still.  If  you  make  the 
least  movement,  I  will  shoot.  You  have  seen 
me  throw  apples  in  the  air  and  send  a  bullet 
through  every  one  with  this  pistol." 

There  was  no  boastfulness  in  this,  and  Ve- 
lasco  knew  it  to  be  true. 

"  I  would  have  given  you  money,  Basilio, 
if  you  had  asked  me  for  it ;  but  to  come  thus 
with  a  knife !  You  would  have  killed  me, 
Basilio,  and  I  have  never  been  unkind  to 
you." 

If  he  could  only  remove  the  dagger  from  his 
mouth !  Surely  one  so  kind  and  gentle  as  she 
would  let  him  go  in  peace  if  he  could  only 
plead  with  her !  But  to  let  the  dagger  fall 
from  his  teeth  would  be  to  disarm  himself,  and 
he  was  hardly  ready  for  that ;  and  there  was 
much  thinking  and  planning  to  be  done  within 
a  very  few  minutes. 

Velasco,  still  with  his  gaze  on  the  black  hole 
in  the  pistol-barrel,  soon  made  a  discouraging 
154 


TREACHEROUS   VELASCO 

discovery ;  the  position  in  which  he  had  been 
arrested  was  insecure  and  uncomfortable,  and 
the  unusual  strain  that  it  brought  upon  his  mus 
cles  became  painful  and  exhausting.  To  shift 
his  position  even  in  the  smallest  way  would  be 
to  invite  the  bullet.  As  the  moments  flew  the 
strain  upon  particular  sets  of  muscles  increased 
his  pain  with  alarming  rapidity,  and  uncon 
sciously  he  began  to  speculate  upon  the  length 
of  time  that  remained  before  his  suffering 
would  lead  him  into  recklessness  and  death. 
While  he  was  thus  approaching  a  very  agony 
of  pain,  with  the  end  of  all  human  endurance 
not  far  away,  another  was  suffering  in  a  differ 
ent  manner,  but  hardly  less  severely. 

The  beautiful  senora  held  the  choice  of  two 
lives  in  the  barrel  of  her  pistol ;  but  that  she 
should  thus  hold  any  life  at  all  was  a  matter 
that  astounded,  perplexed,  and  agonized  her  ; 
that  she  had  the  courage  to  be  in  so  extraordi 
nary  a  position  amazed  her  beyond  estimation. 
Now,  when  one  reflects  that  one  is  courageous, 
one's  courage  is  questionable.  And  then,  she 
was  really  so  tender-hearted  that  she  wondered 
if  she  could  make  good  her  threat  to  shoot  if 
the  murderer  should  move.  That  he  believed 
she  would  was  sufficient. 

But  after  the  arrival  of  her  husband — what 
155 


TREACHEROUS   VELASCO 

then  ?  With  his  passionate  nature  could  he 
resist  the  temptation  to  cut  the  fellow's  throat 
before  her  very  eyes  ?  That  was  too  horrible 
to  think  of.  But — God  ! — the  robber  himself 
had  a  knife  !  By  thus  summoning  her  husband 
was  she  not  inviting  him  to  a  mortal  struggle 
with  a  desperate  man  better  armed  than  he  ? 
It  would  have  been  easy  to  liberate  Basilio  and 
let  him  go  his  way  ;  but  she  knew  that  her 
husband  would  follow  and  find  him.  Now 
that  the  mischief  of  notifying  him  had  been 
done,  it  was  best  to  keep  the  prisoner  with 
her,  that  she  might  plead  for  his  life.  Therein 
lay  her  hope  that  she  could  avert  the  shedding 
of  blood  by  either  of  the  men.  Her  suspense  ; 
her  self-questionings  ;  her  dread  of  a  terrible 
termination  to  an  incident  which  already  had 
assumed  the  shape  of  a  tragedy  ;  her  fearful 
responsibility ;  the  menacing  possibility  that 
she  herself,  in  simple  defence  of  her  life,  might 
have  to  kill  Basilio ;  her  trepidation  on  the 
score  of  her  aim  and  the  reliability  of  the  pis 
tol — all  these  things  and  others  were  wearing 
her  out ;  and  at  last  she,  too,  began  to  wonder 
how  long  she  could  bear  the  strain,  and 
whether  or  not  her  husband  would  arrive  in 
time  to  save  her. 

Meanwhile,  Velasco,  racked  to  the  marrow 
156 


TREACHEROUS   VELASCO 

by  the  pains  which  tortured  him,  and  driven 
by  a  desire  to  drop  the  dagger  and  plead  for 
his  life  and  by  fear  of  parting  with  his  weapon, 
was  urged  to  despair,  and  finally  to  despera 
tion.  All  the  supplication  that  his  face  and 
eyes  could  show  pleaded  eloquently  for  him, 
and  with  this  silent  pleading  came  evidence  of 
his  physical  agony.  The  muscles  of  his  arms 
and  legs  twitched  and  trembled,  and  his  labored 
breathing  hissed  as  it  split  upon  the  edge  of 
the  knife.  He  was  unable  longer  to  control 
the  muscles  of  his  lips ;  the  keen  edge  of  his 
weapon  found  a  way  into  the  flesh  at  either 
side  of  his  mouth,  and  two  small  streams  of 
blood  trickled  down  his  chin  and  fell  upon 
his  breast.  Not  for  a  moment  did  he  take  his 
gaze  from  her  eyes ;  and  thus  these  two  re 
garded  each  other  in  a  silence  and  a  stillness 
that  were  terrible.  A  crisis  had  to  come.  Here 
was  a  test  of  nerve  that  inevitably  would  make 
a  vi6lim  of  one  or  the  other.  The  speftacle  of 
the  man's  agony,  the  pitiful  sight  of  his  implor 
ing  look,  were  more  than  the  feminine  flesh 
of  which  Violante  was  composed  could  bear. 
The  crash  came — Basilio  was  the  first  to 
break  down.  Whether  voluntarily  or  not,  he 
released  his  hold  upon  the  knife,  which  went 
clattering  through  the  vine-branches  to  the 

'57 


TREACHEROUS   VELASCO 

ground.  In  another  instant  his  tongue,  now 
free,  began  pouring  forth  a  supplication  in  the 
Spanish  language  with  an  eloquence  which 
Violante  had  never  heard  equalled. 

"  Oh,  senora  !"  he  said,  "  who  but  an  angel 
could  show  a  mercy  tenderer  than  human  ? 
And  yet,  as  I  hope  for  the  mercy  of  the  Holy 
Virgin,  there  are  a  sweetness  and  a  kindness 
in  your  face  that  belong  to  an  angel  of  mercy. 
Oh,  Mother  of  God  !  surely  thy  unworthy  son 
has  been  brought  into  this  strait  for  the  trying 
of  his  soul,  and  for  its  chastisement  and  puri 
fication  at  the  hands  of  thy  sweetest  and 
gentlest  of  daughters  ;  for  thou  hast  put  it  into 
her  heart — which  is  as  pure  as  her  face  is 
beautiful — to  spare  me  from  a  most  horrible 
end.  Thou  hast  whispered  into  her  mother- 
soul  that  one  of  thy  sons,  however  base  and 
undeserving,  should  not  be  sent  unshriven  to 
the  judgment-seat  of  the  most  Holy  Christ, 
thy  son.  Through  the  holy  church  thou  hast 
enlightened  her  soul  to  the  duties  of  a  Chris 
tian,  for  in  her  beautiful  face  shines  the  ra 
diance  of  heaven. — Ah,  senora  !  see  me  plead 
for  mercy !  Behold  the  agonies  which  beset 
me,  and  let  my  sufferings  unlock  the  door  of 
your  heart.  Let  me  go  in  peace,  senora  ;  and 
you  shall  find  in  me  a  slave  all  the  days  of  my 
158 


TREACHEROUS   VELASCO 

life — the  humblest  and  most  devoted  of  slaves, 
happy  if  you  beat  me,  glorying  in  my  slavery 
if  you  starve  me,  and  giving  praise  to  Almighty 
God  if  you  trample  me  under  your  feet. 
Sefiora,  sefiora,  release  me,  for  time  is  press 
ing — I  can  barely  escape  if  you  let  me  go  this 
instant.  Would  you  have  my  blood  on  your 
hands  ?  Can  you  face  the  Virgin  with  that  ? 
Oh,  sefiora — sefiora " 

Her  head  swam,  and  all  her  senses  were 
afloat  in  a  sea  of  agonies.  Still  she  looked 
down  into  his  eyes  as  he  continued  his  plead 
ings,  but  the  outlines  of  his  body  were  waver 
ing  and  uncertain,  and  inexpressible  suffering 
numbed  her  faculties.  Still  she  listened 
vaguely  to  his  outpouring  of  speech ;  and  it 
was  not  until  her  husband,  with  two  of  his 
vaqueros,  dashed  up  on  horseback  that  either 
of  these  two  strangely  situated  sufferers  was 
aware  of  his  approach.  Seeing  him,  Violante 
threw  her  arms  abroad,  and  the  pistol  went 
flying  to  the  ground ;  and  then  she  sank  down 
to  the  floor,  and  the  brilliant  sunshine  became 
night  and  the  shining  glories  of  the  day  all 
nothingness. 

jj<  %  >{<  %  if:  ifc  jjc 

She  awoke  and  found  herself  lying  on  her 
bed,    with    her    husband    sitting    beside    her, 
159 


TREACHEROUS   VELASCO 

caressing  her  hands  and  watching  her  anx 
iously.  It  was  a  little  time  before  she  could 
summon  her  faculties  to  exercise  and  to  an 
understanding  of  her  husband's  endearing 
words ;  but,  seeing  him  safe  with  her,  her  next 
thought  was  of  Velasco. 

"  Where  is  Basilio  ?"  she  asked,  starting  up 
and  looking  fearfully  about. 

"  He  is  safe,  my  dear  one.  Think  no  more 
of  Basilio,  who  would  have  harmed  my  Vio- 
lante.  Be  calm,  for  my  sake,  sweet  wife." 

"  Oh,  I  can't,  I  can't !  You  must  tell  me 
about  Basilio."  And,  in  a  frightened  whisper, 
she  asked,  "  Did  you  kill  him  ?" 

"  No,  loved  one  ;   Basilio  is  alive." 

She  sank  back  upon  her  pillow.  "  God  be 
praised  !"  she  whispered. 

Suddenly  she  started  again  and  looked  keenly 
into  her  husband's  eyes.  "  You  have  never 
deceived  me,"  she  hurriedly  said  ;  "  but, 
Robert,  I  must  know  the  truth.  Have  no 
fear — I  can  bear  it.  For  God's  sake,  my  hus 
band,  tell  me  the  truth  !" 

Alarmed,  he  took  her  in  his  arms,  and  said, 
"  Be  calm,  my  Violante ;  for  as  the  Almighty 
is  my  witness,  Basilio  is  alive." 

"  Alive  !  alive  !"  she  cried  ;  "  what  does  that 
mean  ?  You  are  keeping  something  back,  my 
160 


TREACHEROUS   VELASCO 

husband.  I  know  your  passionate  nature  too 
well— you  could  not  let  him  off  so  easily. 
Tell  me  the  whole  truth,  Robert,  or  1  shall  go 
mad !" 

There  was  a  frantic  earnestness  in  this  that 
would  have  made  evasion  unwise. 

"I  will,  Violante;  I  will.  Listen — for 
upon  my  soul,  this  is  the  whole  truth  :  When 
I  saw  you  drop  the  pistol  and  sink  back  upon 
the  floor,  I  knew  that  you  had  fainted.  I 
ordered  the  vaqueros  to  secure  the  weapon 
and  make  Basilio  descend  to  the  ground. 
Then  I  ran  upstairs,  placed  you  on  the  bed, 
loosened  your  clothing,  and  did  what  I  could 
to  restore  you.  But  you  remained  uncon 
scious " 

"  Basilio  !  Basilio  !  tell  me  about  him." 

"  I  went  to  the  window  and  sent  one  of  the 
men  to  the  hacienda  for  a  doclor  for  you,  and 
told  the  other  to  bring  Basilio  to  this  room. 
He  came  in  very  weak  and  trembling,  for  he 
had  fallen  from  the  vine  and  was  slightly 
stunned,  but  not  much  hurt.  He  expefted 
me  to  kill  him  here  in  this  room,  but  I  could 
not  do  that — I  was  afraid  on  your  account, 
Violante.  He  was  very  quiet  and  ill " 

"  Hurry,  Robert,  hurry  i" 

"He  said  nothing.  I  spoke  to  him.  He 
«  161 


TREACHEROUS   VELASCO 

hung  his  head  and  asked  me  if  I  would  let  him 
pray.  I  told  him  I  would  not  kill  him.  A 
great  light  broke  over  his  face.  He  fell  at  my 
feet  and  clasped  my  knees  and  kissed  my  boots 
and  wept  like  a  child.  It  was  pitiful,  Vio- 
lante." 

"  Poor  Basilio !" 

"  He  begged  me  to  punish  him.  He  re 
moved  his  shirt  and  implored  me  to  beat  him. 
I  told  him  I  would  not  touch  him.  He  said 
he  would  be  your  slave  and  mine  all  his  life ; 
but  he  insisted  that  he  must  make  some  physi 
cal  atonement — he  must  be  punished.  '  Very 
well,'  I  said.  Then  I  turned  to  Nicolas  and 
told  him  to  give  Basilio  some  light  punish 
ment,  as  that  would  relieve  his  mind.  Nicolas 
took  him  down  and  lashed  him  to  the  back  of 
a  horse,  and  turned  the  animal  into  the  horse- 
corral.  Then  Nicolas  came  back  and  told  me 
what  he  had  done.  I  replied  that  it  was  all 
right,  and  that  as  soon  as  I  could  leave  you  I 
would  go  and  release  Basilio.  And  then  I 
told  Nicolas  to  go  to  the  range  and  look  up 
Alice  and  bring  her  home,  for  she  was  too 
weak  to  come  back  with  me." 

"  And  Basilio  is  in  the  corral  now  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  How  was  he  lashed  to  the  horse  ?" 
162 


TREACHEROUS   VELASCO 

"I  don't  know — Nicolas  didn't  tell  me; 
but  you  may  be  sure  that  he  is  all  right." 

She  threw  her  arms  around  her  husband's 
neck  and  kissed  him  again  and  again,  saying, 
"  My  noble,  generous  husband  !  I  love  you  a 
thousand  times  more  than  ever.  Now  go, 
Robert,  at  once,  and  release  Basilic." 

"I  can't  leave  you,  dear." 

"  You  must — you  shall !  I  am  fully  recov 
ered.  If  you  don't  go,  I  will." 

"  Very  well." 

No  sooner  had  he  left  the  room  than  she 
sprang  out  of  the  bed,  caught  up  a  penknife, 
and  noiselessly  followed  him ;  he  did  not  sus- 
pedl  her  presence  close  behind  him  as  he  went 
towards  the  corral.  When  they  had  gone 
thus  a  short  distance  from  the  house  her  alert 
ear  caught  a  peculiar  sound  that  sent  icicles 
through  her  body.  They  were  feeble  cries 
of  human  agony,  and  they  came  from  a  direc 
tion  other  than  that  of  the  corral.  Heedlessly, 
and  therefore  unwisely,  she  ran  towards  their 
source,  without  having  summoned  her  hus 
band,  and  soon  she  came  upon  a  fearful  spec 
tacle. 

McPherson  pursued  his  way  to  the  corral ; 
but  when  he  arrived  there  he  was  surprised 
not  to  find  Basilio  in  the  enclosure.  The  gate 
163 


TREACHEROUS   VELASCO 

was  closed — the  horse  to  which  he  was  lashed 
could  not  have  escaped  through  it.  Looking 
about,  he  read  the  signs  of  a  commotion  that 
must  have  occurred  among  the  horses,  caused, 
undoubtedly,  by  the  strange  sight  of  a  man 
lashed  in  some  peculiar  way  to  the  back  of  one 
of  their  number.  The  ground  was  torn  by 
flying  hoofs  in  all  directions;  there  had  been 
a  wild  stampede  among  the  animals.  Even 
when  he  entered,  possibly  more  than  a  half- 
hour  after  Basilio  was  introduced  among  them, 
they  were  huddled  in  a  corner,  and  snorted 
in  alarm  when  he  approached  them.  The 
horse  to  which  Nicolas  had  lashed  Basilio  was 
not  to  be  seen.  Annoyed  at  the  stupidity  of 
Nicolas,  McPherson  looked  about  until  he 
found  the  place  in  the  fence  through  which 
Basilio's  horse  had  broken ;  only  two  of  the 
rails  had  been  thrown  down.  Alarmed  and 
distressed,  McPherson  leaped  over  the  fence, 
took  up  the  trail  of  the  horse,  and  followed  it, 
running.  Presently  he  discovered  that  the 
horse,  in  his  mad  flight,  had  broken  through 
the  fence  enclosing  the  apiary,  and  had  played 
havoc  among  the  twenty  or  more  bee-hives 
therein.  Then  McPherson  saw  a  spectacle 
that  for  a  little  while  took  all  the  strength  out 
of  his  body. 

164 


TREACHEROUS   VELASCO 

The  senora,  guided  by  a  quicker  sense  than 
that  of  her  husband,  had  gone  straight  to  the 
apiary.  There  she  saw  the  horse,  with  Basilio, 
naked  to  the  waist,  strapped  upon  his  back, 
the  animal  plunging  madly  among  the  bee 
hives,  kicking  them  to  fragments  as  the  vicious 
insefts  plied  him  with  their  stings.  Basilio 
was  tied  with  his  face  to  the  sun,  which 
poured  its  fierce  rays  into  his  eyes ;  for  Nicolas 
was  devoted  to  the  senora,  and  he  had  been 
determined  to  make  matters  as  uncomfortable 
for  the  ingrate  as  possible.  Upon  Basilio's 
unprotected  body  the  bees  swarmed  by  hun 
dreds,  giving  him  a  score  of  stings  to  one  for 
the  horse,  and  he  was  utterly  helpless  to  pro 
tect  himself.  Already  the  poison  of  a  thou 
sand  stings  had  been  poured  into  his  face  and 
body ;  his  features  were  hideously  swollen  and 
distorted,  and  his  chest  was  puffed  out  of  re 
semblance  to  a  human  shape,  and  was  livid  and 
ghastly. 

Without  a  moment's  hesitation,  the  sefiora 
flew  through  the  gate  and  went  to  the  deliver 
ance  of  Basilio,  praying  to  God  with  every 
breath.  His  cries  were  feeble,  for  his  strength 
was  nearly  gone,  and  his  incredible  agony, 
aided  by  the  poison  of  the  bees,  had  sent  his 
wits  astray.  For  Violante  to  approach  the 
165 


TREACHEROUS   VELASCO 

maddened  horse  and  the  swarming  bees  was  to 
offer  herself  to  death ;  but  what  cared  she  for 
that,  when  another's  life  was  at  stake  ?  Into 
this  desperate  situation  she  threw  herself. 
With  the  coolness  of  a  trained  horsewoman, 
she  finally  twisted  the  fingers  of  one  hand  into 
the  frantic  horse's  nostrils,  bringing  him  in 
stantly  under  control.  In  another  moment, 
unmindful  of  the  stings  which  the  bees  inflicted 
upon  her  face  and  hands,  she  had  cut  Basilio's 
lashings  and  caught  his  shapeless  body  in  her 
arms  as  it  slipped  to  the  ground.  Then, 
taking  him  under  the  arms,  she  dragged  him, 
with  uncommon  strength,  from  the  enclosure 
and  away  from  the  murderous  assaults  of  the 
bees. 

He  moaned ;  his  head  rolled  from  one  side 
to  the  other.  His  eyes  were  closed  by  the 
swelling  of  the  lids,  and  he  could  not  see  her ; 
but  even  had  this  not  been  so,  he  was  past 
knowing  her.  She  laid  him  down  in  the 
shade  of  a  great  oak,  and  she  saw  from  his 
faint  and  interrupted  gasps  that  in  another 
moment  all  would  be  over  with  him.  Uncon 
scious  of  the  presence  of  her  husband,  who 
now  stood  reverently,  with  uncovered  head, 
behind  her,  she  raised  to  heaven  her  blanched 
face  and  beautiful  eyes,  and  softly  prayed, 
1 66 


TREACHEROUS   VELASCO 

"  Holy  mother  of  Jesus,  hear  the  prayer  of  thy 
wretched  daughter,  and  intercede  for  this  un- 
shriven  spirit."  She  glanced  down  at  Basilic, 
and  saw  that  he  was  dead.  Feebly  she  stag 
gered  to  her  feet,  and,  seeing  her  husband, 
cried  out  his  name,  stretched  out  her  arms 
towards  him,  and  sank  unconscious  into  his 
strong  grasp ;  and  thus  he  bore  her  to  the 
house,  kissing  her  face,  while  tears  streamed 
down  his  cheeks. 


I67 


An  Uncommon  View  of  It 


MR.  CLARKE  RANDOLPH  was  stupe- 
fied  by  a  discovery  which  he  had 
just  made  —  his  wife  had  proved  unfaithful, 
and  the  betrayer  was  his  nearest  friend,  Henry 
Stockton.  If  there  had  been  the  least  chance 
for  a  doubt,  the  unhappy  husband  would  have 
seized  upon  it,  but  there  was  none  whatever. 

Let  us  try  to  understand  what  this  meant 
co  such  a  man  as  Randolph.  He  was  a  high 
bred,  high-spirited  man  of  thirty,  descended 
from  a  long  line  of  proud  and  chivalrous  men; 
educated,  refined,  sensitive,  generous,  and 
brave.  His  fine  talents,  his  dash,  his  polished 
manner,  his  industry,  his  integrity,  his  loftiness 
of  character,  had  lifted  him  upon  the  shoulders 
of  popularity  and  prosperity  ;  so  that,  in  the 
city  of  his  home,  there  was  not  another  man 
of  his  age,  a  member  of  his  profession,  the 
law,  who  was  so  well  known,  so  well  liked,  or 
wielded  such  a  power. 

He  had  been  married  four  years.  His  wife 
1  68 


AN   UNCOMMON   VIEW   OF   IT 

was  beautiful,  winning,  and  intelligent ;  and 
she  had  always  had  from  him  the  best  devo 
tion  that  a  husband  could  give  his  wife.  He 
and  Stockton  had  been  friends  for  many  years. 
Next  to  his  wife,  Randolph  had  loved  and 
trusted  him  above  all  others. 

Such  was  the  situation.  At  one  stroke  he  had 
lost  his  wife,  his  home,  his  best  friend,  his  con 
fidence  in  human  nature,  his  spirit,  his  ambi 
tion.  These — and  essentially  they  were  all 
that  made  up  his  life,  except  the  operation  of 
purely  animal  functions  -  had  gone  all  at  once 
without  a  moment's  warning. 

Well,  there  was  something  to  be  done.  A 
keen  sense  of  the  betrayal,  a  smarting  under 
the  gross  humiliation,  urged  him  to  the  natural 
course  of  revenge.  This,  as  he  sat  crouched 
down  in  a  chair  in  his  locked  office,  he  began 
systematically  to  prepare.  The  first  idea — 
always  first  in  such  cases — was  to  kill.  That, 
in  the  case  of  a  man  of  his  spirit  and  tempera 
ment,  was  a  matter  of  course.  Fear  of  the 
legal  consequences  found  no  place  within 
him.  Besides,  suicide  after  the  killing  would 
settle  that  exceedingly  small  part  of  the  diffi 
culty. 

So  it  was  first  decided  that  as  the  result  of 
this  discovery  three  persons  had  to  die, — his 
169 


AN    UNCOMMON   VIEW   OF   IT 

wife,  his  friend,  and  himself.  Very  well ; 
that  took  a  load  from  his  mind.  An  orderly 
and  intelligent  arrangement  of  details  now  had 
to  be  worked  out.  A  plan  which  would 
bring  the  largest  results  in  the  satisfaction  of 
a  desire  for  revenge  must  be  chosen.  The 
simple  death  of  those  two,  the  bare  stoppage 
of  breath,  would  be  wholly  inadequate.  First, 
the  manner  of  taking  their  lives  must  have  the 
quality  of  strength  and  a  force  which  in  itself 
would  have  a  large  element  of  satisfaction ; 
hence  it  must  be  striking,  deliberate,  brutal 
if  you  wish,  revolting  if  you  are  particular. 
Second,  it  must  be  preceded  by  exposure,  de 
nunciation,  publication,  scorn,  contempt,  and 
terror. 

That  much  was  good — what  next  ?  There 
were  various  available  means  for  taking  life. 
A  revolver  suggested  itself.  It  makes  a  dark, 
red  spot ;  the  very  sight  of  the  weapon,  held 
steadily  and  longer  than  necessary,  levelled  at 
the  place  where  the  spot  is  to  appear,  is  terri 
fying  ;  there  is  a  look  of  fright ;  then  uplifted 
arms,  an  appeal  for  mercy,  a  protest  of  inno 
cence,  a  cry  to  God ;  after  that  the  crash,  a 
white  face,  a  toppling  to  the  floor,  eyes  rolled 
upward,  bluish  lips  apart,  a  dark  pool  on  the 
carpet — all  that  was  very  good.  The  wretched 
170 


AN    UNCOMMON   VIEW   OF  IT 

man  felt  better  now  that  he  was  beginning  to 
think  so  clearly. 

But  there  was  poison  also — poison  in  va 
riety  :  arsenic,  which  burns  and  corrodes, 
causing  great  pain,  often  for  hours  ;  strychnine, 
which  ads  through  the  nerves,  producing  con 
vulsions  and  sometimes  a  fixed  distortion  of 
the  features,  which  even  the  relaxation  of 
death  cannot  remove ;  corrosive  sublimate, 
prussic  acid,  cyanide  of  potassium — too  quick 
and  deadly.  It  must  be  a  poison,  if  poison  at 
all,  which  will  bring  about  a  sensible  progres 
sion  through  perceptible  stages  of  suffering,  so 
that  during  this  time  the  efficiency  of  physical 
pain  may  be  raised  by  the  addition  of  mental 
suffering. 

Were  these  all  the  methods  ?  Yes — enough 
for  this  purpose.  Then,  which  should  it  be — 
revolver  or  poison  ?  It  was  a  difficult  prob 
lem.  Let  it  first  be  settled  that  the  three 
should  be  together,  locked  in  a  room,  and 
that  the  two  guilty  ones  should  suffer  first,  one 
at  a  time. 

The  revolver  won. 

Randolph    was    in   the  adl:    of  leaving    his 

office  to  go  and  buy  the  weapon,  when  he  was 

startled  by  what  he  saw  in  his  office-mirror. 

It  required  a  moment   for  him  to  recognize 

171 


AN   UNCOMMON   VIEW    OF   IT 

his  own  reflection.  His  face  was  unnaturally 
white ;  a  discoloration  was  under  his  eyes, 
which  had  a  glassy  appearance ;  his  lips  were 
pressed  tightly  together,  the  corners  of  his 
mouth  drawn  down,  large  dark  veins  standing 
out  on  his  temples.  Fearing  that  if,  while  in 
this  condition,  he  should  apply  to  a  gunsmith 
for  a  revolver  he  would  be  refused,  he  stood 
for  some  time  before  the  mirror  trying  to 
restore  the  natural  expression  of  his  face.  He 
kneaded  his  lips  to  remove  their  stiffness, 
pinched  his  cheeks  to  bring  back  their  color, 
rubbed  down  the  ridged  veins,  and  scraped  a 
little  of  the  white  plaster  from  the  wall  and 
with  it  concealed  the  dark  color  under  his 
eyes.  Then  he  went  forth  with  a  firm  step, 
bought  the  revolver  without  difficulty,  tried  it, 
satisfied  himself  that  it  was  reliable,  loaded  it, 
put  it  into  his  pocket,  and  returned  to  his 
office. 

For  there  were  certain  matters  of  property 
to  be  attended  to.  He  had  a  considerable 
fortune,  all  his  separate  possession  ;  his  wife 
had  brought  him  nothing.  He  now  felt  suffi 
ciently  clear-minded  to  dispose  of  his  estate 
intelligently.  He  drew  his  will — a  holo 
graphic  instrument — devising  his  wealth  to 
various  persons  and  benevolent  societies. 
172 


AN   UNCOMMON   VIEW   OF   IT 

He  glanced  at  his  office-clock.  There 
would  be  four  long  hours  yet  before  the  time 
for  going  home  to  dinner.  Fortunately  for  his 
plans,  Stockton  was  to  dine  with  them  that 
evening,  and  neither  of  the  guilty  ones  knew 
that  they  had  been  discovered.  How  should 
Randolph  employ  these  weary  hours  ?  There 
was  nothing  to  do,  nothing  even  to  think  of. 
He  tried  to  read  a  newspaper,  then  a  book,  and 
failed ;  looked  out  upon  the  crowds  which 
thronged  the  street ;  counted  the  passing  cars 
awhile ;  tried  other  things,  failed  at  every 
thing,  and  then  sat  down. 

Something  was  beginning  to  work  in  the 
wretched  man.  Let  us  see :  his  wife,  while 
pretending  the  warmest  affeftion  for  him,  was 
receiving  the  guilty  attentions  of  a  traitor  in 
the  house ;  she  had  betrayed  her  husband,  had 
wrecked  his  life,  had  driven  him  to  his  death. 
Really,  therefore,  she  had  swept  aside  all  the 
obligations  which  the  marriage  relation  im 
posed.  In  essence  she  was  no  longer  his 
wife,  but  a  criminal  enemy  who,  with  delib 
erate  and  abounding  malice,  had  destroyed 
him.  He  could  go  to  the  grave  with  a  willing 
heart,  but  he  could  not  permit  her  to  live  and 
enjoy  his  downfall  and  gloat  over  his  destruc 
tion. 


AN    UNCOMMON   VIEW    OF   IT 

But  would  she  really  do  that  ?  And,  then, 
— God  ! — she  was  a  woman  !  In  spite  of  all 
that  she  had  done,  she  was  a  woman !  A 
strong  man,  his  strength  reinforced  by  a  re 
volver,  employs  deception  to  bring  a  woman 
into  a  room,  locks  the  door,  insults,  humili 
ates,  and  terrifies  her,  brandishes  a  revolver, 
and  then  kills  her  like  a  rat  in  its  hole.  Can 
a  brave  man,  of  mature  judgment  and  in  pos 
session  of  his  faculties,  do  such  a  thing  ? 
Why,  it  would  be  not  only  murder,  but  cow 
ardice  as  well !  No ;  it  could  not  be  done. 
She  was  still  a  woman,  with  all  the  weakness, 
all  the  frailty  which  her  sex  imposed.  It 
could  not  be  done. 

After  all,  it  would  be  far  sweeter  revenge  to 
let  her  live,  bearing  through  life  a  brand  of 
infamy.  That  would  be  much  better.  She 
would  lose  her  high  position  and  the  respeft 
of  her  friends;  the  newspapers  would  publish 
her  shame  to  the  world,  pointing  her  out  by 
name  as  the  depraved  woman  who  had  be 
trayed  her  husband  and  driven  him  to  murder 
and  suicide ;  they  would  have  her  portrait  in 
their  columns ;  her  name  and  crime  would  be 
hawked  upon  the  street  by  loud-crying  news 
boys  ;  sermons  denouncing  her  would  be 
preached  in  all  the  churches ;  her  shame 
174 


AN    UNCOMMON   VIEW   OF   IT 

would    be    discussed    everywhere — in   homes, 
shops,  hotels,  and  bar-rooms  in  many  cities. 

Not  only  that,  but  she  would  be  stripped 
of  all  the  property  which  she  had  enjoyed  so 
much.  She  would  be  turned  adrift  upon  the 
streets,  for  no  one  would  help  her,  none  have 
a  kind  word  for  her,  none  give  her  even  the 
respedl  which  money  might  command.  Being 
thus  turned  out  upon  the  world  all  friendless 
and  alone,  and  being  naturally  depraved,  she 
would  seek  the  protection  of  fast  and  shady 
men.  Thus  started,  and  soon  taking  to  drink, 
as  such  women  always  do,  down  she  would 
plunge  into  a  reckless  and  shameless  career, 
sinking  lower  and  lower,  losing  her  beauty ; 
becoming  coarse,  loud,  and  vulgar ;  then,  ar 
riving  at  that  stage  when  her  beauty  no  longer 
could  be  a  source  of  revenue,  drifting  into  vile 
dens,  consorting  with  the  lowest  and  most 
brutal  blackguards,  finding  herself  dragged 
often  before  police-magistrates,  first  for  drunk 
enness  and  then  for  theft,  serving  short  terms 
in  prison  with  others  as  low ;  finally,  one 
night  brought  shrieking  with  delirium  tremens 
to  the  police-station,  bundled  out  to  the  hos 
pital,  strapped  firmly  to  an  iron  bed,  and  then 
dying  with  foul  oaths  on  her  lips — such  a  life 
would  be  infinitely  worse  than  death ;  such 
175 


AN   UNCOMMON   VIEW   OF   IT 

revenge  immeasurably  vaster  than  that  of  the 
pistol.  Then  it  was  finally  decided  that  she 
must  live  and  suffer. 

As  to  the  friend — as  to  Stockton,  the  be 
trayer,  the  sneak,  the  coward — be  should  die 
like  a  dog.  That  decision  could  not  be  recon 
sidered.  He  should  not  be  granted  the  privi 
lege  of  a  duel,  for  not  only  was  he  wholly 
undeserving  of  such  consideration,  but  by  such 
means  his  life  might  be  spared.  Undoubtedly 
she  loved  him ;  perhaps  he  loved  her.  He 
living  and  the  husband  killed  in  a  duel,  their 
satisfaction  would  be  doubled — having  wrecked 
and  humiliated  him  and  driven  him  to  despair, 
they  then  killed  him.  After  that  they  could 
enjoy  each  other's  society  openly,  unmolested, 
and  without  fear  of  detection  or  punishment. 
Besides,  they  might  marry  and  both  be  happy. 
This  was  unthinkable.  He  must  be  killed,  he 
must  die  like  a  dog,  and  he  must  go  to  his 
death  with  a  foul  stain  on  his  name. 

These  things  being  settled,  the  wretched 
man  reread  the  will.  As  the  woman  was  to 
live,  she  must  be  mentioned  in  the  document. 
He  tore  up  the  will  and  wrote  another,  in 
which  he  bequeathed  her  one  dollar,  setting 
forth  her  shame  as  the  reason  for  so  small  a 
bequest.  Then  he  wrote  out  a  separate  state- 
176 


AN   UNCOMMON   VIEW    OF   IT 

ment  of  the  whole  affair,  sealed  it,  addressed 
it  to  the  coroner,  and  placed  it  in  his  pocket. 
It  would  be  found  there  after  awhile. 

Well,  why  this  trembling  in  every  member, 
this  unaccountable  nausea,  this  unconquerable 
feeling  of  horror  and  repugnance  as  the  draft 
of  the  pifture  was  contemplated  ?  Did  instinct 
arise  and  dumbly  plead  for  mercy  ?  What 
mercy  had  been  shown  that  mercy  could  be 
expefted  ?  None  whatever.  There  was  not 
only  revenge  to  be  satisfied,  but  justice  also. 
Still,  it  was  horrible !  Admit  that  she  de 
served  it  all,  deserved  even  more,  she  was  a 
woman  !  No  aft  of  hers  could  deprive  her  of 
her  natural  claims  upon  the  stronger  sex.  As 
a  woman  she  had  inalienable  rights  which 
even  she  could  not  forfeit,  which  men  may 
not  withhold.  And  then,  where  could  be  the 
benefit  of  adding  physical  suffering  to  mental? 
One  surely  would  weaken  the  force  of  the 
other.  The  lower  she  should  fall  and  the 
deeper  her  degradation,  the  smaller  would  be 
come  the  efficiency  of  her  mental  agony  ;  and 
yet  mental  suffering  was  the  kind  which  it  was 
desired  should  fall  upon  her. 

It  would  be  well,  therefore,  to  leave  her 
some  money — a  considerable  amount  of  money 
— in  order  that,  holding  herself  above  the 

12  177 


AN    UNCOMMON   VIEW   OF   IT 

want  which,  in  her  case,  would  lead  to  degra 
dation  and  a  blunting  of  the  sensibilities,  she 
might  suffer  all  the  more  keenly ;  in  order 
that  the  memory  of  her  shame  might  be  for 
ever  poignant,  forever  a  cause  for  the  sharpest 
regrets.  This  would  be  better  in  other  ways  : 
her  shame  published,  she  could  never  associate 
with  those  fine  characters  who  had  been  her 
friends ;  her  lover  dead  and  his  memory  dis 
graced,  he  could  not  be  present  to  console 
her;  for  society  she  would  have  only  those 
whom  her  fortune  would  attradl,  and  they 
were  not  of  a  kind  to  satisfy  such  a  woman  as 
she  ;  she  would  always  be  within  sight  of  the 
old  life  and  its  pleasures,  but  just  beyond  the 
pale — sufficiently  near  to  see  and  long  for,  but 
too  far  to  reach,  and  forever  kept  back  by  the 
cold  glance  of  contempt  and  disdain  from  the 
high  circle  in  which  she  had  been  reared. 

Therefore,  it  were  better  to  leave  her  the 
bulk  of  his  fortune.  So  he  tore  up  the  second 
will  and  wrote  a  third,  in  which,  while 
naming  her  as  his  principal  legatee,  he  incor 
porated  the  story  of  her  shame.  He  felt 
better  now  than  at  any  other  time  since  his 
discovery.  He  walked  about  the  room, 
looked  out  the  window,  then  fell  into  his 
chair  again. 

178 


AN    UNCOMMON   VIEW   OF   IT 

How  strangely  alike  in  many  respe&s  are 
all  animals,  including  man  !  he  thought.  There 
are  qualities  and  passions  common  to  them  all, 
— hate,  fear,  anger,  revenge,  love,  fondness  for 
offspring.  In  what  is  man  superior  to  the 
others  ?  Manifestly  in  self-control,  a  sense  of 
justice,  the  attribute  of  mercy,  the  quality  of 
charity,  the  power  to  forgive,  the  force  of 
benevolence,  the  operation  of  gratitude ;  an 
appreciation  of  abstractions ;  an  ability  to 
compare,  contrast,  and  adjust ;  consciousness 
of  an  inherent  tendency  to  higher  and  better 
achievements.  To  the  extent  that  he  lacks 
these  does  he  approach  more  closely  to  the 
lower  orders.  To  the  degree  that  the  passions 
common  to  all  have  mastery  over  him  does  he 
lack  the  finer  qualities  which  distinguish  his 
species.  The  desire  to  kill  when  hurt,  an 
gered,  or  threatened  is  the  stronger  the  lower 
we  descend  in  the  scale  of  the  orders — the 
lower  we  descend  even  among  the  members  of 
the  same  order.  The  least  developed  men  are 
the  most  brutal.  Revenge  is  the  malice  of  anger. 

It  is  strange  that  his  thoughts  should  have 
taken  such  a  turn ! 

And  then,  the  fundamental  instindl  which 
guards  the  perpetuation  of  the  species  is  com 
mon  to  all,  and  its  manifestations  are  controlled 
179 


AN   UNCOMMON   VIEW   OF  IT 

by  a  universal  law,  whose  simple  variations  do 
not  impair  its  integrity.  Love  and  mating — 
these  are  the  broad  lines  upon  which  the  per 
petuation  of  the  species  starts.  What  possible 
abstractions  are  there  in  them  ?  Is  not  their 
character  concrete  and  visible  ?  Whatever  fine 
sentiments  are  evolved,  we  know  their  source 
and  comprehend  their  fundlion.  There  is  no 
mystery  here. 

What  is  this  jealousy,  which  all  animals 
may  have  ?  It  is  an  instinctive  resentment,  by 
one  of  a  mated  pair,  of  something  which  inter 
feres  with  a  pleasant  established  system,  the 
basis  of  which  is  perpetuation  of  the  species. 
Higher  mankind  has  the  ability  to  disseft  it, 
analyze  it,  understand  it,  and  guard  against  its 
harmful  operation  ;  herein  lie  distinguishing 
qualities  of  superiority.  If,  when  his  jealousy 
is  roused,  he  is  unable  to  adl  any  differently 
from  the  lion,  the  horse,  or  the  dog,  then,  in 
that  regard,  he  is  not  superior  to  them.  Man, 
being  an  eater  of  meat,  is  a  savage  animal,  like 
the  dog,  the  tiger,  the  panther,  the  lion.  His 
passions  are  strong,  as  are  theirs ;  but  he  has 
qualities  which  enable  him  to  hold  them  in 
check.  If  an  animal  have  a  strong  attachment 
for  his  mate,  he  will  fight  if  she  be  taken  from 
him;  this  is  the  operation  of  jealousy.  If  he 
1 80 


AN   UNCOMMON   VIEW   OF   IT 

• 

be  a  savage  animal,  he  will  kill  if  he  can  or 
dare.  Few  males  among  the  animals  will  kill 
their  deserting  mates ;  that  is  left  for  man,  the 
noblest  of  the  animals.  The  others  are  con 
tent  to  kill  the  seducer.  What  thankfulness 
there  is  for  escape  from  an  adl,  so  recently 
contemplated,  which  would  have  placed  its 
perpetrator  below  the  level  of  the  most  savage 
of  the  brutes  !  In  what,  of  all  that  was  now 
proposed  to  be  done,  was  there  any  quality  to 
distinguish  the  a&s  from  those  of  the  most 
savage  brute,  except  a  more  elaborate  detail, 
the  work  of  superior  malice  and  ferocity  ?  Is 
it  a  wonder  that  Randolph  shuddered  when  he 
thought  of  it  ? 

The  broadest  characteristic  of  all  animals, 
including  man,  is  selfishness.  In  man  it 
reaches  its  highest  form  and  becomes  vanity, 
pride,  and  a  ridiculous  sense  of  self-importance. 
But  man  alone  is  conscious  of  its  existence, 
character,  and  purpose ;  he  alone  encourages 
its  rational  development  and  suppresses  the 
most  evil  of  its  abuses.  The  animal  which 
would  fight  or  kill  from  jealousy  is  moved  by 
a  selfish  motive  only.  It  proceeds  to  satisfy 
its  anger  or  gratify  its  revenge  without  any 
regard  to  the  ethics,  without  any  thought  of  its 
obligations  to  nature,  without  the  slightest  wish 
181 


AN    UNCOMMON   VIEW   OF   IT 

to  inquire  whether  there  may  not  be  in  the 
cause  of  its  jealousy  a  natural  purpose  which 
is  proceeding  upon  the  very  lines  that  led  to 
its  mating.  A  man,  however,  can  think  of 
these  things,  weigh  them  carefully,  understand 
them  approximately,  and  then  advance  in  the 
light  of  wisdom.  If  not,  he  is  no  better,  in 
this  regard,  than  the  animal  which  cannot  so 
reason  and  understand. 

This  manner  of  thinking  was  bringing  the 
unhappy  man  closer  to  himself. 

Then,  having  faced  the  proposition  that  he 
had  been  considering  his  own  case  all  along, 
he  found  the  situation  to  be  somewhat  like 
this  :  He  had  a  certain  understanding  which 
should  operate  to  remove  him  from  influences 
which  with  men  of  inferior  conceptions  would 
be  more  powerful ;  not  being  a  brute,  he 
should  rise  above  impulses  which  a  brute  is 
constrained  by  its  nature  to  obey.  So  much 
was  clear.  Then  what  should  he  do  ?  He 
pondered  this  long  and  seriously. 

Was  it  possible  to  wipe  out  the  past  with 
exposure,  humiliation,  shame,  and  blood  ?  He 
had  been  proud  of  her ;  he  had  loved  her ;  he 
had  been  very,  very  happy  with  her.  She  had 
been  his  inspiration  ;  a  part  of  his  hopes,  ambi 
tion,  life.  True,  she  had  undone  all  this,  but 
182 


AN    UNCOMMON    VIEW   OF   IT 

the  memory  of  it  remained.  Until  this  recent 
adl  of  shame,  she  had  been  kind,  unselfish, 
gentle,  and  faithful.  Who  knows  why  she 
fell?  Who  could  sound  the  depths  of  this 
strange  mystery  ;  who  measure  the  capacity  of 
her  resistance  •  who  judge  her  frailty  with  a 
righteous  mind ;  who  say  that  at  that  very 
moment  she  was  not  suffering  unspeakable 
things  ?  And  then,  was  there  any  one  so 
noble  of  charafter,  with  integrity  so  unfailing 
and  so  far  beyond  temptation,  that  he  might 
say  he  was  better  than  she  ?  Her  weakness — 
should  we  presume  to  call  it  depravity  when 
we  cannot  know,  and  might  we  with  intelli 
gent  knowledge  of  our  own  conduct  lay  the 
whole  responsibility  upon  her,  and  none  upon 
that  which  made  her  ?  If  we  are  human,  let 
us  seek  wherein  we  may  convince  ourselves 
that  we  are  not  brutes.  Compassion  is  an 
attribute  of  a  noble  character.  The  test  of 
manhood  is  the  exercise  of  manly  qualities. 

What  good  would  come  from  this  revenge 
of  humiliation  and  exposure  ?  It  would  not 
mend  the  wrong ;  it  would  not  save  life ;  it 
would  be  only  proof  of  the  vanity,  the  sense 
of  self-importance,  of  the  injured  one.  Would 
it  be  possible  to  spare  her  ?  Yes.  That  finally 
was  settled.  She  should  live;  she  should  have 
183 


AN   UNCOMMON   VIEW   OF   IT 

the  property  ;  she  should  be  left  to  enjoy  life 
as  best  she  could  without  the  shadow  of  a 
stain  upon  her  name.  That  were  the  nobler 
part,  the  test  of  manhood.  And  then,  the 
past  could  not  be  forgotten ! 

Randolph  felt  so  much  better  after  arriving 
at  this  decision  that  he  marvelled  at  himself. 
He  walked  about  the  room  feeling  strong  and 
elastic.  He  tore  up  the  will  because  it 
charged  her  crime  upon  her ;  tore  up  the 
letter  to  the  coroner ;  collected  all  the  scraps 
of  paper  and  carefully  burned  them.  Then 
he  drew  a  new  will,  free  from  stain,  leaving 
all  his  property  to  his  wife.  He  did  not  only 
that,  but  he  wrote  her  a  letter — formal,  of 
course — merely  saying  that  he  had  found  his 
life  a  mistake ;  this  he  sealed,  addressed,  and 
placed  in  his  pocket. 

Stockton — the  false  friend,  the  betrayer  and 
destroyer — he  should  die,  he  should  die  like  a 
dog.  But  not  with  a  stain  on  his  name — that 
were  impossible,  because  it  would  reflect  upon 
far. 

Here  was  a  new  situation.  The  two  men 
would  be  found  dead,  likely  in  the  same  room 
— the  friend  and  the  husband.  What  would 
people  think  ?  A  duel  ?  For  what  reason  ? 
Murder  and  suicide  ?  Who  had  handled  the 
184 


AN   UNCOMMON   VIEW   OF   IT 

weapon,  and  for  what  possible  cause  ?  The 
road  which  suspicion  would  travel  was  too 
short  and  wide.  The  fair  name  of  the  wife 
was  to  be  guarded — that  had  been  decided 
upon,  and  now  it  was  the  first  considera 
tion. 

There  were  other  matters  to  be  thought  of. 
Suppose  that  Stockton  had  been  the  husband 
and  Randolph  the  friend.  God!  let  us 
think.  Have  brutes,  frenzied  with  rage  and 
jealousy,  the  power  to  hold  nature's  mirror 
before  the  heart,  to  feel  compassion,  to  exer 
cise  charity,  to  weigh  with  a  steady  hand  the 
weaknesses  and  frailties  of  their  kind,  to  feel 
humility,  to  bow  the  head  before  the  inscruta 
ble  ways  of  nature  ?  Have  they  not  ?  No  ? 
Well,  then,  have  men  ?  If  they  have  not, 
they  are  no  better  in  that  regard  than  brutes. 
Besides,  would  it  punish  Stockton  to  kill 
him  ?  There  can  be  no  punishment  in  death  ; 
it  can  be  only  in  dying ;  but  even  dying  is  not 
unpleasant,  and  death  is  the  absence  of  suffer 
ing.  There  was  no  way  under  heaven  to  give 
him  adequate  punishment. 

Nor   was    that    all.     She   loved    him — that 

must  be  so.     What  would  be  the  benefit  of 

removing   him   from  her   life  ?     It  would   be 

merely  revenge — revenge  upon  both  of  them ; 

185 


AN   UNCOMMON   VIEW   OF   IT 

and  where  lies  the  nobility  of  such  revenge  ? 
If  they  both  should  live,  both  go  unexposed, 
they  might  be  happy  together. 

After  all,  whom  would  that  disturb,  with 
whose  pleasure  interfere  ?  Surely  no  sound 
of  their  happiness  could  penetrate  the  grave  ; 
violence  would  be  done  to  none  of  nature's 
laws.  Why  should  they  not  be  happy  ?  If 
they  could,  why  should  they  not  ?  Was  there 
any  reason  under  the  sun  that  wisdom,  charity, 
compassion,  and  a  high  manhood  could  give 
why  they  should  not  be  happy  ? 

But  suppose  that  she  should  suspeft  the 
cause  of  her  husband's  suicide ;  this  would 
likely  poison  her  life,  for  the  consciousness 
of  guilt  would  give  substance  to  suspicion. 
The  result  would  be  an  abhorrence  of  self,  a 
detestation  of  the  participant  in  her  sin,  a 
belief  that  the  blood  of  her  husband  was  upon 
her  head,  and  a  long  train  of  evils  which 
would  seriously  impair,  if  not  wholly  destroy, 
the  desired  serenity  of  her  life.  Was  there 
any  way  to  prevent  the  birth  of  such  a  sus 
picion  ? 

Yes ;  there  was  a  way.  As  soon  as  Ran 
dolph  had  worked  it  out  he  felt  as  if  an  enor 
mous  load  had  been  removed  from  him.  His 
eyes  shone  brightly,  his  cheeks  were  flushed, 
186 


AN   UNCOMMON   VIEW    OF   IT 

and  a  look  of  pride  and  triumph  lighted  up  his 
face. 

He  returned  to  his  chair,  removed  the  re 
volver  from  his  pocket,  and  laid  it  on  the 
table ;  wrote  his  wife  an  affectionate  letter,  in 
which  he  told  her  that  he  had  just  become 
aware  of  an  incurable  ailment  which  he  had 
not  the  courage  to  face  through  months  or 
years  of  suffering,  and  begged  her  to  look  to 
Stockton  for  friendship  and  advice ;  wrote  to 
Stockton,  charging  him  with  her  protection  ; 
burned  the  last  will  that  he  had  made  and 
drew  a  new  one,  in  which  he  left  them  the 
property  jointly,  on  condition  that  they  marry 
within  two  years.  Then,  with  a  perfectly 
clear  head,  he  laid  down  his  pen  and  sighed, 
but  his  face  was  bright  and  tranquil.  He 
picked  up  the  revolver,  cocked  it,  placed  the 
muzzle  against  his  temple,  and  without  the 
tremor  of  a  nerve  he  pressed  the  trigger. 


187 


A  Story  Told  by  the  Sea 


ONE  night,  when  the  storm  had  come  up 
from  the  south,  apparently  for  the  sole 
purpose  of  renewing  war  with  its  old  enemy, 
the  Peninsula  of  Monterey,  I  left  the  ancient 
town,  crossed  the  neck  of  the  peninsula,  and 
descended  on  the  other  side  of  the  Santa  Lucia 
slope  to  see  the  mighty  battle  on  Carmel  Bay. 
The  tearing  wind,  which,  charged  with 
needles  of  rain,  assailed  me  sharply,  did  nobler 
work  with  the  ocean  and  the  cypresses,  send 
ing  the  one  upon  a  riotous  course  and  rending 
the  other  with  groans.  1  arrived  upon  a  cliff 
just  beyond  a  pebbly  beach,  and  with  bared 
head  and  my  waistcoat  open,  stood  facing  the 
ocean  and  the  storm.  It  was  not  a  cold  night, 
though  a  winter  storm  was  at  large ;  but  it  was 
a  night  of  blind  agonies  and  struggles,  in 
which  a  mad  wind  lashed  the  sea  and  a  mad 
dened  sea  assailed  the  shore,  while  a  flying 
rain  and  a  drenching  spray  dimmed  the  sombre 
colors  of  the  scene.  It  was  a  night  for  the 
1 88 


A   STORY   TOLD  BY   THE   SEA 

sea  to  talk  in  its  travail  and  yield  up  some  of 
its  mysteries. 

I  left  the  cliff  and  went  a  little  distance  to 
the  neighborhood  of  a  Chinese  fishing-station, 
where  there  was  a  sand-beach  ;  and  here,  after 
throwing  off  my  coat  and  waistcoat,  I  went 
down  to  have  a  closer  touch  with  my  treach 
erous  friend.  The  surf  sprang  at  me,  and  the 
waves,  retreating  gently,  beckoned  me  to  fur 
ther  ventures,  which  I  made  with  a  knowledge 
of  my  ground,  but  with  a  love  of  this  sweet 
danger  also.  A  strong  breaker  lifted  me  from 
my  footing,  but  I  outwitted  it  and  pursued  it 
in  retreat ;  there  came  another  afterwards,  and 
it  was  armed,  for,  towering  above  me,  it  came 
down  upon  me  with  a  bludgeon,  which  fell 
heavily  upon  me.  I  seized  it,  but  there  my 
command  upon  my  powers  ceased  ;  and  the 
wave,  returning,  bore  me  out.  A  blindness,  a 
vague  sense  of  suffocation,  an  uncertain  effort 
of  instinct  to  regain  my  hold  upon  the  ground, 
a  flight  through  the  air,  a  soft  fall  upon  the 
sand — it  was  thus  that  I  was  saved ;  and  I 
still  held  in  my  hand  the  weapon  with  which 
my  old  friend  had  dealt  me  the  blow. 

It  was  a  bottle.  Afterwards,  in  my  room 
at  Monterey,  I  broke  it  and  found  within  it  a 
writing  of  uncommon  interest.  After  weeks 
189 


A   STORY   TOLD    BY   THE   SEA 

of  study  and  deciphering  (for  age  and  imper 
fect  execution  made  the  task  serious  and  the 
result  uncertain),  I  put  together  such  frag 
ments  of  it  as  had  the  semblance  of  coherence  ; 
and  I  found  that  the  sea  in  its  travail  had 
yielded  up  one  of  its  strangest  mysteries.  No 
hope  of  a  profitable  answer  to  this  earnest  cry 
for  help  prompts  its  publication  ;  it  is  brought 
forth  rather  to  show  a  novel  and  fearful  form 
of  human  suffering,  and  also  to  give  knowledge 
possibly  to  some  who,  if  they  be  yet  alive, 
would  rather  know  the  worst  than  nothing. 
The  following  is  what  my  labor  has  accom 
plished  : 

I  am  Amasa  D.  Keating,  an  unhappy  wretch, 
who,  with  many  others,  am  suffering  an  ex 
traordinary  kind  of  torture ;  and  so  great  is  the 
mental  disturbance  which  I  suffer,  that  I  fear 
I  shall  not  be  able  to  make  an  intelligent 
report.  I  am  but  just  from  a  scene  of  incon 
ceivable  terrors,  and,  although  I  am  a  man  of 
some  education  and  usually  equal  to  the  task 
of  intelligent  expression,  t  am  now  in  a  con 
dition  of  violent  mental  disturbance,  and  of 
great  physical  suffering  as  well,  which  I  fear 
will  prove  a  hindrance  to  the  understanding  of 
him  who  may  find  this  report.  At  the  outset, 
I  most  earnestly  beg  such  one  to  use  the  swift- 
190 


A   STORY   TOLD    BY   THE   SEA 

est  diligence  in  publishing  the  matter  of  this 
writing,  to  the  end  that  haply  an  expedition 
for  our  relief  may  be  outfitted  without  delay ; 
for,  if  the  present  state  of  affairs  continue 
much  longer  with  those  whom  I  have  left 
behind,  any  measure  taken  for  their  relief 
will  be  useless.  As  for  myself  and  my  com 
panion,  we  expecl;  nothing  but  death. 

I  will  hasten  to  the  material  part  of  my 
narrative,  with  the  relation  only  of  so  much 
of  the  beginning  as  may  serve  for  our  identifi 
cation. 

On  the  1 4th  of  Oftober,  1852,  we  sailed 
from  Boston  in  the  brig  "  Hopewell,"  Captain 
Campbell,  bound  for  the  islands  of  the  South 
Pacific  Ocean.  We  carried  a  cargo  of  general 
merchandise,  with  the  purpose  of  trading  with 
the  natives ;  but  we  desired  also  to  find  some 
suitable  island  which  we  might  take  possession 
of  in  the  name  of  the  United  States  and  settle 
upon  for  our  permanent  home.  With  this  end 
in  view,  we  had  formed  a  company  and  bought 
the  brig,  so  that  it  might  remain  our  property 
and  be  used  as  a  means  of  communication  be 
tween  us  and  the  civilized  world.  These 
fafts  and  many  others  are  so  familiar  to  our 
friends  in  Boston,  that  I  deem  it  wholly  un 
necessary  to  set  them  forth  in  fuller  detail. 
191 


A   STORY   TOLD   BY   THE   SEA 

The  names  of  all  our  passengers  and  crew 
stand  upon  record  in  Boston,  and  are  not  needed 
to  be  written  here  for  ampler  identification. 

No  ill-fortune  assailed  us  until  we  arrived  in 
the  neighborhood  of  the  Falkland  Islands. 
Cape  Horn  wore  its  ugliest  aspeft  (for  the 
brig  was  a  slow  sailer,  and  the  Antarctic  sum 
mer  was  well  gone  before  we  had  encountered 
bad  weather), — an  unusual  thing,  Captain 
Campbell  assured  us ;  from  that  time  forward 
we  had  a  series  of  misfortunes,  which  ended 
finally,  after  two  or  three  months,  in  a  fearful 
gale,  which  not  only  cost  some  of  the  crew  their 
lives,  but  dismasted  our  vessel.  The  storm 
continued,  and,  the  brig  being  wholly  at  the 
mercy  of  the  wind  and  the  sea,  we  saw  that 
she  must  founder.  We  therefore  took  to  the 
boats  with  what  provisions  and  other  neces 
sary  things  we  could  stow  away.  With  no 
land  in  sight,  and  in  the  midst  of  a  boiling  sea, 
which  appeared  every  moment  to  be  on  the 
eve  of  swamping  us,  we  bent  to  our  oars  and 
headed  for  the  northwest.  It  is  hardly  neces 
sary  to  say  that  we  had  lost  our  reckoning; 
but,  after  a  manner,  we  made  out  that  we 
were  nearly  in  longitude  136.30  west,  and 
about  upon  the  Tropic  of  Capricorn.  This 
would  have  made  our  situation  about  a  hun- 
192 


A   STORY   TOLD   BY   THE   SEA 

dred  and  seventy  miles  from  a  number  of  small 
islands  lying  to  the  eastward  of  the  one  hun 
dred  and  fortieth  meridian.  The  prospeft 
was  discouraging,  as  there  was  hardly  a  sound 
person  in  the  boats  to  pull  an  oar,  so  badly 
had  the  weather  used  us ;  and  besides  that,  the 
ship's  instruments  had  been  lost  and  our  pro 
visions  were  badly  damaged. 

Nevertheless,  we  made  some  headway. 
The  poor  abandoned  brig,  seemingly  conscious 
of  our  desertion,  behaved  in  a  very  singular 
fashion ;  urged  doubtless  by  the  wind,  she 
pursued  us  with  pathetic  struggles —now  beam 
on,  again  stern  foremost,  and  still  again 
plunging  forward  with  her  nose  under  the 
water.  Her  pitching  and  lurching  were 
straining  her  heavily,  and,  with  her  hold  full 
of  water,  she  evidently  could  live  but  a  few 
minutes  longer.  Meanwhile,  it  was  no  small 
matter  for  us  to  keep  clear  of  her,  for  whether 
we  would  pull  to  this  side  or  that  she  followed 
us,  and  sometimes  we  were  in  danger.  There 
came  an  end,  however,  for  the  brig,  now  heavily 
water-logged,  rose  majestically  on  a  great  wave 
and  came  down  side  on  into  the  trough ;  she 
made  a  brave  struggle  to  right  herself,  but  in 
another  moment  she  went  over  upon  her  beam, 
settled,  steadied  herself  a  moment,  and  then 
is  193 


A   STORY   TOLD    BY   THE   SEA 

sank  straight  down  like  a  mass  of  lead.  This 
brought  upon  us  a  peculiar  sense  of  desola 
tion  ;  for,  so  far  as  we  knew  (and  Captain 
Campbell  had  sailed  these  seas  before),  there 
was  hardly  a  chance  of  our  gaining  land  alive. 

Much  to  our  surprise,  we  had  not  rowed 
more  than  twenty  knots  when  (it  being  about 
midnight)  a  fire  was  sighted  off  our  port  bow, 
— that  is  to  say,  due  west.  This  gave  us  so 
great  courage  that  we  rowed  heartily  towards 
it,  and  at  three  in  the  morning,  to  our  un 
speakable  happiness,  we  dragged  our  boats 
upon  a  beautiful  sand-beach.  So  exhausted 
were  we  that  with  small  loss  of  time  we  made 
ourselves  comfortable  and  soon  were  sound 
asleep  upon  firm  ground. 

The  next  sun  had  done  more  than  half  its 
work  before  any  of  us  were  awake.  Except 
ing  some  birds  of  lively  plumage,  there  was 
not  a  living  thing  in  sight ;  but  no  sooner  had 
we  begun  to  stir  about  than  a  number  of  fine 
brown  men  approached  us  simultaneously 
from  different  directions.  A  belt  was  around 
their  waists,  and  from  it  hung  a  short  garment, 
made  of  bark  woven  into  a  coarse  fabric ;  and 
also  hanging  from  the  belt  was  a  heavy  sword 
of  metal.  Undoubtedly  the  men  were  sav 
ages  ;  but  there  was  a  dignity  in  their  manner 
194 


A   STORY   TOLD   BY   THE   SEA 

which  set  them  wholly  apart  from  the  known 
inhabitants  of  these  South  Sea  Islands.  Our 
captain,  who  understood  many  of  the  lan 
guages  and  dialefts  of  the  sub-tropical  island 
ers,  found  himself  at  fault  in  attempting  verbal 
intercourse  with  these  visitors,  but  it  was  not 
long  before  we  found  them  exceedingly  apt  in 
understanding  signs.  They  showed  much 
commiseration  for  us,  and  with  manifestations 
of  friendship  invited  us  to  follow  them  and 
test  their  hospitality.  This  we  were  not  slow 
in  doing. 

The  island — we  were  made  to  know  on  the 
way — was  a  journey  of  ten  hours  long  and 
seven  wide,  and  our  eyes  gave  us  proof  of  its 
wonderful  fecundity  of  soil,  for  there  were 
great  banana  plantations  and  others  of  curious 
kinds  of  grain.  The  narrowness  of  the  roads 
convinced  us  that  there  were  no  wagons  or 
beasts  of  burden,  but  there  were  many  evi 
dences  of  a  civilization  which,  for  these  parts, 
was  of  extraordinary  development ;  such,  for 
instance,  as  finely  cultivated  fields  and  good 
houses  of  stone,  with  such  evidences  of  an 
aesthetic  taste  as  found  expression  in  the  do 
mestic  cultivation  of  many  of  the  beautiful 
flowers  which  grew  upon  the  island.  These 
matters  I  mention  with  some  particularity,  in 
'95 


A   STORY   TOLD    BY   THE   SEA 

order  that  the  island  may  be  recognized  by 
the  rescuers  for  whom  we  are  eagerly  pray 
ing. 

The  town  to  which  we  were  led  is  a  place 
of  singular  beauty.  While  there  is  no  orderly 
arrangement  of  streets  (the  houses  being  scat 
tered  about  confusedly),  there  is  a  large  sense 
of  comfort  and  room  and  a  fine  character  of 
neatness.  The  buildings  are  all  of  rough  stone 
and  are  not  divided  into  apartments  ;  the  win 
dows  and  doors  are  hung  with  matting,  giving 
testimony  of  an  absence  of  thieves.  A  little 
to  one  side,  upon  a  knoll,  is  the  house  of  the 
king,  or  chief.  It  is  much  like  the  others, 
except  that  it  is  larger,  a  chamber  in  front 
serving  as  an  executive-room,  where  the  king 
disposes  of  the  business  of  his  rulership. 

Into  this  audience-room  we  were  led,  and 
presently  the  king  himself  appeared.  He  was 
dressed  with  more  barbaric  profusion  than  his 
subjects  ;  about  his  neck  and  in  his  ears  were 
many  fine  pieces  of  jewelry  of  gold  and  silver, 
evidently  the  work  of  European  artisans,  but 
worn  with  a  complete  disregard  of  their  orig 
inal  purpose.  The  king,  a  large,  strong,  and 
handsome  man,  received  us  with  a  kindly 
smile ;  if  ever  a  human  face  showed  kindness 
of  heart,  it  was  his.  He  had  us  to  understand 
196 


A   STORY   TOLD   BY   THE   SEA 

at  once  that  we  were  most  welcome,  that  he 
sympathized  with  us  in  our  distress,  and  that 
all  our  wants  should  be  attended  to  until  means 
should  be  found  for  restoring  us  to  our  coun 
try,  or  sending  us  whithersoever  else  we  might 
desire  to  go. 

It  was  not  at  all  likely,  he  said  (for  he  spoke 
German  a  little),  that  any  vessel  from  the  out 
side  world  would  ever  visit  the  island,  as  it 
appeared  to  be  unknown  to  navigators,  and  it 
was  a  law  upon  the  island  that  the  inhabitants 
of  no  other  islands  should  approach.  At  certain 
times  of  the  moon,  however,  he  sent  a  boat  to 
an  island,  many  leagues  away,  to  bear  some 
rare  produces  of  his  people  in  exchange  for 
other  commodities,  and,  should  we  so  desire, 
we  might  be  taken,  one  at  a  time,  in  the  boat, 
and  thus  eventually  be  put  in  the  way  of  pass 
ing  vessels.  With  what  appeared  to  be  an 
embarrassed  hesitation,  he  informed  us  that  he 
was  compelled  to  impose  a  certain  mild  re 
straint  upon  us — one  which,  he  hurried  to  add, 
would  in  no  way  interfere  with  our  comfort 
or  pleasure.  This  was  that  we  be  kept  apart 
from  his  people,  as  they  were  simple  and 
happy,  and  he  feared  that  association  with  us 
would  bring  discontent  among  them.  Their 
present  condition  had  come  about  solely 
197 


A   STORY   TOLD   BY   THE   SEA 

through  the  policy  of  complete  isolation  which 
had  been  followed  in  the  past. 

We  received  this  communication  with  a  de 
light  which  we  took  no  pains  to  conceal ;  and 
the  king  seemed  touched  by  our  expressions 
of  gratitude.  So  in  a  little  while  we  were 
established  as  a  colony  about  three  miles  from 
the  town,  the  quick  hands  of  the  natives  having 
made  for  us,  out  of  poles,  matting,  and  thatch, 
a  sufficient  number  of  houses  for  our  comfort ; 
and  the  king  placed  at  our  disposal  a  large 
acreage  for  our  use,  if  we  should  desire  to  help 
ourselves  with  farming  ;  for  which  purpose  an 
intelligent  native  was  sent  to  instruct  us.  It 
was  on  the  loth  day  of  May,  1853,  that  we 
went  upon  the  island,  and  the  I4th  when  we 
went  into  colony. 

I  cannot  pause  to  give  any  further  descrip 
tion  of  this  beautiful  island  and  our  delightful 
surroundings,  but  must  hasten  away  to  a  rela 
tion  of  the  terrible  things  which  presently  be 
fell  us.  We  had  been  upon  the  island  about 
a  month,  when  the  king  (who  had  been  to  visit 
us  twice)  sent  a  messenger  to  say  that  a  boat 
would  leave  on  the  morrow,  and  that  if  any 
one  of  us  wished  to  go  he  could  be  taken. 
The  messenger  said  that  the  king's  best  judg 
ment  was  that  the  sickly  ones  ought  to  go  first, 
198 


A   STORY   TOLD   BY   THE   SEA 

as,  in  the  event  of  serious  illness,  it  would  be 
better  that  they  should  die  at  home.  We 
overlooked  this  singular  and  savage  way  of 
stating  the  case,  for  our  sense  of  gratitude  to 
the  king  was  so  great  that  the  expression  of  a 
slight  wish  from  him  was  as  binding  upon  us 
as  law.  Hence  from  our  number  we  selected 
John  Foley,  a  carpenter,  of  Boston,  as  the 
hardships  of  the  voyage  had  developed  in  him 
a  quick  consumption,  and  he  had  no  family  or 
relatives  in  the  colony,  as  many  others  of  us 
had.  The  poor  fellow  was  overcome  with 
gratitude,  and  he  left  us  the  happiest  man  I 
ever  saw. 

I  must  now  mention  a  very  singular  thing, 
which  upon  the  departure  of  Foley  was  given 
a  conspicuous  place  in  our  attention.  We 
were  in  a  roomy  valley,  which  was  nearly  sur 
rounded  by  perpendicular  walls  of  great  height, 
and  from  no  accessible  point  was  the  sea  vis 
ible.  On  several  occasions  some  of  the  younger 
men  had  sought  to  leave  the  valley  for  the 
shore,  but  at  each  attempt  the  native  guards 
set  over  us  had  suddenly  appeared  at  the  few 
passes  which  nature  had  left  in  the  wall,  and 
kindly  but  firmly  had  turned  our  young  men 
back,  saying  that  it  was  the  king's  wish  we 
should  not  leave  the  valley.  The  older  heads 
199 


A   STORY   TOLD   BY   THE   SEA 

among  us  discouraged  these  attempts  to  escape, 
holding  them  to  be  breaches  of  faith  and  hos 
pitality  ;  but  the  knowledge  of  being  absolute 
prisoners  weighed  upon  us  nevertheless,  and 
became  more  and  more  irksome.  When, 
therefore,  our  companion  was  taken  away,  an 
organized  movement  was  made  among  the 
young  men  to  gain  an  elevated  position  com 
manding  a  view  of  the  sea,  in  order  to  observe 
the  direction  taken  by  Foley's  boat.  The  plan 
was  to  divide  into  bodies  and  move  simul 
taneously  in  force  upon  all  the  points  of  egress, 
and  overcome,  without  any  resort  to  dangerous 
violence,  the  two  or  three  guards  who  had 
been  seen  at  those  points.  When  our  men 
arrived  at  these  places  they  encountered  the 
small  number  it  was  customary  to  see,  and 
were  pushing  their  way  through,  when  sud 
denly  there  appeared  a  strong  body  of  natives, 
who  drew  their  heavy  swords  and  assumed  so 
threatening  an  attitude  that  our  men  lost  no 
time  in  retreating.  A  report  of  this  occur 
rence  was  made  to  the  colony,  each  of  the 
parties  of  young  men  having  had  an  exactly 
similar  experience.  While  there  appeared  to 
be  no  good  ground  for  the  feeling  of  uneasi 
ness  which  spread  throughout  the  colony,  a 
sense  of  oppression  came  over  the  stronger 
200 


A   STORY   TOLD   BY   THE   SEA 

ones  and  of  fear  over  the  weaker ;  and,  a 
council  having  been  held,  it  was  decided  to 
ask  an  explanation  of  the  king. 

Other  things  of  some  interest  had  happened  ; 
among  them,  a  surreptitious  acquiring  of  con 
siderable  knowledge  of  the  island  language  by 
me.  For  this  reason  I  was  chosen  as  ambas 
sador  to  the  king.  My  mission  was  a  failure, 
as  the  king,  though  gracious,  informed  me  that 
this  plan  was  necessary  in  securing  complete 
isolation  from  his  people  ;  and  he  instructed 
me  to  tell  my  people  that  any  member  of  our 
colony  found  beyond  the  lines  would  be  pun 
ished  with  death.  In  addition  to  this,  the 
king,  seemingly  hurt  that  we  should  have  ques 
tioned  the  propriety  of  his  aftions,  said  that 
thenceforward  he  himself  would  make  the 
selections  of  our  people  for  deportation.  The 
man's  evident  superiority  of  character  im 
pressed  me  with  no  little  effecl,  and  the  sin 
cerity  with  which  he  regarded  us  as  belonging 
to  a  race  inferior  to  his  in  mental  and  moral 
strength  confounded  me  and  placed  me  at  a 
disadvantage. 

When  I  took  the  news  to  the  colony,  a 
mood  bordering  upon  hopelessness  came  upon 
our  people.  The  ones  of  hastier  temper  sug 
gested  a  revolt  and  a  seizure  of  the  island  ;  but 

201 


A   STORY   TOLD   BY   THE   SEA 

this  was  so  insane  an  idea  that  it  was  put  away 
at  once. 

Not  long  afterwards  the  king  sent  for  Ab 
salom  Maywood,  one  of  our  young  men,  un 
married,  but  with  a  mother  among  us.  May- 
wood,  at  first  very  low  with  scurvy  on  the 
brig,  had  drifted  into  other  ailments,  and  was 
now  an  invalid  and  much  wasted.  I  will  not 
dwell  upon  the  pathetic  parting  between  him 
and  his  aged  mother,  nor  upon  the  deeper 
gloom  that  fell  upon  the  colony.  What  was 
becoming  of  these  men  ?  None  might  know 
whither  they  were  taken  and  none  could  guess 
their  after-fate.  Behind  our  efforts  to  be 
cheerful  and  industrious  there  were  heavy 
hearts,  and  possibly  thoughts  and  fears  that 
dared  not  seek  expression. 

The  third  man  was  taken — again  a  sickly 
one — this  time  a  consumptive  farmer,  named 
Jackson  ;  and  some  time  afterward  a  fourth, 
an  elderly  woman,  with  a  cancer ;  she  was 
Mrs.  Lyons,  formerly  a  milliner  in  South 
Boston.  Then  the  patience  and  hope  which 
had  sustained  us  gave  way,  and  we  were  in  a 
condition  close  upon  despair.  The  cooler 
ones  among  the  men  assembled  quietly  apart 
and  debated  what  to  do.  Our  captain,  a  man 
quiet  and  brave,  still  the  leader  in  our  councils, 
202 


A   STORY   TOLD   BY   THE   SEA 

and  always  advising  patience  and  obedience, 
presided  at  this  meeting.  There  was  one 
dreadful  thought  upon  every  mind,  but  no 
man  had  the  courage  to  bring  it  forth ;  but 
after  there  had  been  some  discussion  without 
any  profit,  Captain  Campbell  made  this 
speech  : 

"  My  friends,  it  does  not  become  us  longer 
to  seek  to  conceal  the  thought  which  all  of  us 
have,  and  which,  sooner  or  later,  must  be 
spoken.  It  is  a  matter  of  common  knowledge 
that  upon  many  of  the  islands  of  these  seas 
there  exists  the  horrible  practice  of  canni 
balism." 

Not  a  word  was  spoken  for  a  long  time, 
and  all  were  glad  that  it  had  come  out  at  last. 
Not  one  man  looked  at  his  neighbor  or  dared 
raise  his  glance  from  the  ground,  and  there 
was  a  weight  upon  the  hearts  of  all. 

"Nevertheless,"  resumed  the  captain,  "  it 
is  extremely  difficult  to  believe  that  this  evil  is 
upon  us,  for  you  must  have  noticed  that  only 
the  lean  and  sickly  ones  have  been  taken,  and 
surely  this  cannot  mean  cannibalism." 

Some  had  not  thought  of  this,  and  they 
looked  up  quickly,  with  brighter  faces  ;  where 
upon  Captain  Campbell  proceeded : 

"  You  must  have  observed,  however,  that 
203 


A   STORY   TOLD    BY   THE   SEA 

all  of  the  sick  and  weakly  have  gone,  and  this 
brings  a  new  situation  upon  us.  I  have  an 
idea,  which  I  will  not  give  expression  to  now, 
and  my  desire  in  calling  you  together  was  to 
determine  its  correctness  or  falsity.  For  this 
purpose,  some  man  of  daring  and  agility  must 
risk  his  life." 

Nearly  every  man  present  made  offer  of  his 
services,  but  the  captain  shook  his  head  and 
begged  them  all  to  remain  quiet. 

"  It  is  necessary,"  he  added,  "  that  this  man 
understand  the  language,  and  1  fear  there  is  not 
one  among  you." 

Each  man,  taken  aback,  looked  at  his  neigh 
bor  and  then  all  at  me,  as  I  stepped  forward. 
The  captain  regarded  me  gratefully  and  said : 

"  Let  there  now  be  a  binding  secrecy  among 
us,  for  the  others  of  the  colony  must  not  know 
now,  and  perhaps  never.  If  our  fear  find  a 
ground  in  truth,  there  is  all  the  greater  reason 
for  keeping  these  matters  secret  among  our 
selves.  Is  that  well  understood  ?  Then,  Mr. 
Keating,  the  plan  is  this :  When  the  next  one 
of  us  is  taken,  you  are  by  strategy,  but  in  no 
event  by  violence,  to  escape  from  this  impris 
onment  and  discover  the  fate  of  that  one  and 
make  report  to  us." 

A  week  afterwards  (these  things  occurring 
204 


A   STORY   TOLD   BY   THE   SEA 

now  with  greater  frequency)  Lemuel  Arthur, 
a  young  man  of  twenty -two,  was  taken  away 
about  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  My 
whole  plan  having  been  studied  out,  I  arrayed 
myself  in  the  style  of  the  natives,  stained  my 
skin  with  ochre,  blackened  my  eyebrows  and 
hair  with  a  mixture  of  soot  and  tallow,  and 
without  difficulty  slipped  by  the  guards  and 
found  myself  at  large  and  free  upon  the  island. 
I  gained  a  high  point  and  saw  no  sign  of  a 
boat  making  ready  to  put  off  with  Arthur. 
When  darkness  had  come  I  descended  to  the 
village.  I  kept  upon  the  outskirts  and  re 
mained  as  much  as  possible  in  shadow.  I 
dared  not  talk  with  any  one,  but  I  could 
listen ;  and  presently  I  learned  something  that 
made  my  heart  stand  still. 

"  It  has  been  so  long  since  we  had  one," 
said  a  native  to  his  fellow. 

"  Yes  ;  and  this  one  will  be  delicious.  They 
say  he  is  young  and  fat.  Why,  we  have  not 
touched  any  since  the  four  men  and  their 
woman  with  the  jewelry  came  upon  the  island 
from  a  wreck." 

"  True ;  but  this  one  will  not  go  around 
among  so  many  of  us — many  must  go  with 
out." 

"  What  of  that  ?  Those  not  supplied  now 
205 


A   STORY   TOLD   BY    THE   SEA 

will  have  all  the  keener  relish  when  their  turn 
comes.  All  that  are  left  now  are  good  and 
fat,  as  the  king  has  taken  away  all  the  lean  and 
sickly  ones.  He  would  not  allow  the  people 
to  touch  them,  although  some  of  them  begged 
very  hard.  So,  to  make  sure,  they  were 
placed  in  the  kiln." 

So  heavy  a  sickness  fell  upon  me  when  I 
heard  this  that  I  was  near  upon  a  betrayal  of 
my  presence ;  and  certainly  I  lost  some  of  the 
talk  which  these  men  were  having.  Presently 
I  realized  that  nothing  indicating  a  horrible 
fate  for  my  friends  had  been  said ;  my  own 
fears  were  sufficient  to  give  a  frightful  color  to 
their  language.  When  I  looked  about  me 
again  they  were  gone,  and  so  with  much  cau 
tion  I  moved  to  another  part  of  the  town, 
keeping  always  in  shadow.  At  a  certain  place 
I  heard  another  conversation,  as  follows  : 

"  Does  he  know  what  they  will  do  with 
him  ?" 

"  No ;  but  he  fears  something.  He  does 
not  understand  the  language.  He  tried  to  get 
away  this  afternoon  to  go  to  the  sea-shore, 
where  he  thought  the  boat  was  waiting,  and 
when  they  made  an  effort  to  keep  him  quiet  he 
became  very  angry." 

"  What  did  they  do  then  ?" 
206 


A   STORY   TOLD   BY   THE   SEA 

"  They  took  him  to  the  king,  who  was  so 
kind  that  the  young  man  became  quiet.  Our 
king  is  so  gentle,  and  they  always  believe 
what  he  tells  them," — whereupon  the  fellow 
broke  into  a  hearty  laugh. 

"  And  do  the  others  suspeft  nothing  ?" 

"  There  is  doubt  about  that.  Kololu,  the 
farmer,  has  reported  that  they  appear  uneasy 
and  disturbed,  and  hold  secret  meetings." 

"  What  do  you  think  they  would  do  if  they 
should  discover  everything  ?" 

"  Revolt,  I  think,  for  they  appear  to  be 
fighters." 

"  But  they  have  no  arms,  and  we  are  more 
than  a  hundred  to  one." 

"  That  is  true,  and  so  no  lives  would  be  lost 
on  either  side.  After  the  revolt  they  would 
merely  be  kept  in  closer  confinement,  and  no 
harm  would  come  in  the  end.  They  could  be 
taken  one  at  a  time,  as  is  the  present  intention." 

"  They  might  refuse  to  eat  sufficient,  and 
hence  become  lean." 

"  That  would  come  about  surely,  but  it 
would  last  only  for  a  time ;  for  you  have  no 
ticed  that  even  our  own  people,  when  con 
demned,  though  they  lose  flesh  at  first, 
invariably  become  reconciled  to  their  end,  and 
at  last  become  fatter  than  ever." 
207 


A   STORY   TOLD   BY   THE   SEA 

The  words  of  this  man,  who  was  evidently 
a  functionary  of  the  king,  inspired  me  with  so 
great  a  horror  that  I  could  bear  to  hear  no 
more  ;  so  I  moved  away,  considering  whether 
I  should  return  to  the  colony  and  report  what 
I  had  -heard  already  or  remain  to  see  this 
ghastly  tragedy  to  the  end.  As  there  was 
nothing  to  be  gained  by  returning  at  once,  I 
decided  to  stay,  for  through  the  horror  of  it 
all  might  come  some  suggestion  of  a  means  of 
deliverance. 

I  soon  became  aware,  by  the  making  of  all 
the  people  towards  a  certain  quarter,  that 
something  of  unusual  importance  was  afoot ; 
so  as  best  I  could  I  worked  my  way  around  to 
the  point  of  convergence,  which  was  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  king's  house,  and  there  I 
saw  an  extraordinary  preparation  under  way. 
A  large  bonfire  was  burning  in  an  open  place ; 
standing  around  it,  in  a  circle  having  a  gener 
ous  radius,  were  hundreds  of  the  strange  half- 
savages  of  the  island,  kept  at  their  proper 
distance  by  an  armed  patrol ;  in  a  clear  space 
at  one  side,  on  higher  ground,  was  an  elevated 
seat,  which  I  surmised  was  reserved  for  the 
king.  Manifestly  a  matter  of  some  moment 
was  to  be  attended  to,  having  likely  a  ceremo 
nious  character.  The  most  curious  feature  of 
208 


A   STORY   TOLD    BY   THE   SEA 

all  this  affair  was  the  activity  of  a  number  of 
workers  engaged  in  dragging  large,  hot  stones 
from  the  fire  and  arranging  them  in  the  form 
of  an  oblong  mound.  This  mound  had  one 
peculiar  feature :  a  hollow  space,  about  six 
feet  long  and  two  feet  wide,  was  left  within 
it,  and  the  men,  under  the  instructions  of  a 
leader,  were  fashioning  it  to  a  depth  approach 
ing  two  feet,  all  the  stones  being  very  hot  and 
difficult  to  handle,  even  with  the  aid  of  barrows. 

While  they  were  still  at  work,  the  great  re 
pressed  excitement  under  which  the  people 
labored  found  an  excuse  for  expression  in  the 
arrival  of  the  king,  who,  tricked  out  in  unusual 
finery,  walked  solemnly  ahead  of  his  attendants 
to  his  elevated  seat.  Then  he  gave  an  order 
which,  from  my  distance,  I  could  not  hear.  I 
pushed  a  little  closer  under  the  safety  which 
the  occasion  lent,  and  overheard  this  conversa 
tion  : 

"  How  many  will  get  some  of  it  ?" 

"  Only  forty,  I  hear.  You  know  the  women 
are  not  allowed  to  have  it." 

"  Yes." 

"  The  leading  men  will  be  supplied.  It 
makes  them  strong  and  wise.  The  next  one 
will  be  given  to  sixty  of  the  men  who  carry 
swords." 

H  209 


A   STORY    TOLD   BY   THE   SEA 

"  And  the  next  after  that  ?" 

"  To  more  of  the  swordsmen ;  and  so  on 
until  they  all  have  had  some,  and  then  the 
common  people  will  be  taken  in  like  rotation, 
but  given  a  smaller  allowance." 

At  this  juncture,  a  strange  procession  moved 
from  the  king's  house.  It  was  led  by  two 
priests  chanting  dolefully  ;  behind  them  walked 
four  men,  armed  with  curious  implements — 
flails,  no  doubt.  Then  came  four  warriors, 
and  behind  them,  firmly  bound  and  completely 
naked,  walked  my  young  friend,  Arthur; 
after  him  came  six  warriors.  Arthur's  white 
skin  showed  in  strong  contrast  to  that  of  the 
brown  men  around  him.  His  face  was  very 
pale,  and  his  eyes,  staring  wide,  swept  a  quick 
glance  around  for  a  stray  hope. 

The  group  stopped  in  front  of  the  king ; 
the  natives  faced  and  made  an  obeisance  and 
awaited  further  orders.  Before  all  this  had  been 
done,  a  man  in  front  of  me  said  to  another  : 

"  Those  hot  stones  will  cool,  I  fear." 

"  There  is  no  danger ;  they  will  keep  their 
heat  a  long  time.  If  they  were  too  hot,  they 
would  burn  it." 

"  True." 

"  They  are  much  too  hot  now,  but  it  will 
be  some  time  before  they  will  be  needed." 


A   STORY   TOLD   BY   THE   SEA 

"  Will  they  use  the  sword  first,  as  they  did 
with  those  who  had  the  jewelry  ?" 

"  No ;  the  best  part  then  was  spilled.  This 
is  a  new  idea  of  the  king's.  The  flails  will  do 
just  as  well  and  will  make  it  very  tender  be 
sides.  Our  king  is  a  wise  man." 

By  this  time  young  Arthur  (the  king  having 
given  his  order)  was  surrounded  by  the  armed 
men,  and  between  him  and  them  were  the 
four  who  carried  flails.  His  hands  had  been 
bound  to  a  strong  post  sunk  in  the  ground. 
The  king  raised  his  hand  as  a  signal,  and  the 
four  men  brought  down  their  flails  with  mod 
erate  force  upon  Arthur's  naked  body.  These 
implements  were  heavy,  and  evidently  care 
was  taken  not  to  break  the  skin.  When  the 
poor  fellow  felt  the  blows,  he  shrank  and 
quivered,  but  uttered  no  sound.  They  fell 
again. 

What  was  I  doing  all  this  time  ?  What  was 
I  thinking  ?  I  do  not  know ;  but  when  the 
second  blows  had  been  delivered  and  Arthur 
had  cried  out  in  his  agony,  I  sprang  through 
the  encircling  line  of  savages,  dashed  into  the 
midst  of  the  group  surrounding  the  prisoner, 
snatched  a  sword  from  a  warrior,  leaped  upon 
the  king  and  split  his  head  in  twain,  turned, 
cut  Arthur's  bonds,  caught  him  by  the  hand, 

211 


A   STORY   TOLD   BY   THE   SEA 

and  fled  at  full  speed  with  him  into  the  dark 
ness.  Never  had  been  a  surprise  more  com 
plete — the  people  had  seen  one  of  their  own 
number,  as  they  supposed,  free  the  prisoner 
and  murder  their  king.  Soon  there  came  a 
howl,  and  some  started  in  pursuit;  but — there 
was  the  body  of  the  king,  and  the  stones  were 
hot  and  waiting  !  There  was  no  longer  author 
ity  !  Our  pursuers  fell  off,  one  by  one,  and  the 
others,  thus  discouraged,  gave  up  the  chase. 
We  ran  to  the  shore,  found  a  boat,  and  put  out 
to  sea. 

We  are  free — we  two ;  but  to  what  pur 
pose  ?  We  have  no  idea  of  the  direction  of 
the  land  ;  we  are  without  food  ;  we  dare  not 
return  to  our  friends,  for  only  in  the  desperate 
hope  of  our  finding  land  can  there  be  the 
least  encouragement  for  their  rescue.  We 
have  rowed  all  night;  it  is  now  well  into  the 
following  afternoon  ;  we  have  had  nothing  to 
eat  or  drink,  and  we  are  beginning  to  suffer  ; 
we  both  are  naked  and  the  sun  seemingly  will 
burn  us  up.  I  therefore  make  this  record  with 
material  which  I  had  been  prudent  to  provide 
for  such  an  emergency,  and  I  shall  now  give  it 
to  the  sea,  with  such  earnest  prayers  for  its 
discovery  as  can  come  only  from  a  most  un 
happy  human  being  in  a  desperate  extremity. 

212 


The  Monster^  Maker 


A  YOUNG  man  of  refined  appearance,  but 
evidently  suffering  great  mental  distress, 
presented  himself  one  morning  at  the  residence 
of  a  singular  old  man,  who  was  known  as  a 
surgeon  of  remarkable  skill.  The  house  was 
a  queer  and  primitive  brick  affair,  entirely  out 
of  date,  and  tolerable  only  in  the  decayed  part 
of  the  city  in  which  it  stood.  It  was  large, 
gloomy,  and  dark,  and  had  long  corridors  and 
dismal  rooms ;  and  it  was  absurdly  large  for 
the  small  family — man  and  wife — that  occu 
pied  it.  The  house  described,  the  man  is 
portrayed — but  not  the  woman.  He  could  be 
agreeable  on  occasion,  but,  for  all  that,  he  was 
but  animated  mystery.  His  wife  was  weak, 
wan,  reticent,  evidently  miserable,  and  possi 
bly  living  a  life  of  dread  or  horror — perhaps 
witness  of  repulsive  things,  subject  of  anxie 
ties,  and  vidtim  of  fear  and  tyranny  ;  but  there 
is  a  great  deal  of  guessing  in  these  assumptions. 
He  was  about  sixty-five  years  of  age  and  she 
about  forty.  He  was  lean,  tall,  and  bald,  with 
213 


THE    MONSTER  MAKER 

thin,  smooth-shaven  face,  and  very  keen  eyes ; 
kept  always  at  home,  and  was  slovenly.  The 
man  was  strong,  the  woman  weak ;  he  domi 
nated,  she  suffered. 

Although  he  was  a  surgeon  of  rare  skill,  his 
practice  was  almost  nothing,  for  it  was  a  rare 
occurrence  that  the  few  who  knew  of  his 
great  ability  were  brave  enough  to  penetrate 
the  gloom  of  his  house,  and  when  they  did  so 
it  was  with  deaf  ear  turned  to  sundry  ghoulish 
stories  that  were  whispered  concerning  him. 
These  were,  in  great  part,  but  exaggerations 
of  his  experiments  in  vivisection ;  he  was  de 
voted  to  the  science  of  surgery. 

The  young  man  who  presented  himself  on 
the  morning  just  mentioned  was  a  handsome 
fellow,  yet  of  evident  weak  character  and  un 
healthy  temperament — sensitive,  and  easily  ex 
alted  or  depressed.  A  single  glance  convinced 
the  surgeon  that  his  visitor  was  seriously 
affected  in  mind,  for  there  was  never  bolder 
skull-grin  of  melancholia,  fixed  and  irremedi 
able. 

A  stranger  would  not  have  suspected  any 
occupancy  of  the  house.  The  street  door — 
old,  warped,  and  blistered  by  the  sun — was 
locked,  and  the  small,  faded-green  window- 
blinds  were  closed.  The  young  man  rapped 
214 


THE   MONSTER-MAKER 

at  the  door.  No  answer.  He  rapped  again. 
Still  no  sign.  He  examined  a  slip  of  paper, 
glanced  at  the  number  on  the  house,  and  then, 
with  the  impatience  of  a  child,  he  furiously 
kicked  the  door.  There  were  signs  of  numer 
ous  other  such  kicks.  A  response  came  in  the 
shape  of  a  shuffling  footstep  in  the  hall,  a 
turning  of  the  rusty  key,  and  a  sharp  face 
that  peered  through  a  cautious  opening  in  the 
door. 

"  Are  you  the  do&or  ?"  asked  the  young 
man. 

"  Yes,  yes  !  Come  in,"  briskly  replied  the 
master  of  the  house. 

The  young  man  entered.  The  old  surgeon 
closed  the  door  and  carefully  locked  it.  "  This 
way,"  he  said,  advancing  to  a  rickety  flight  of 
stairs.  The  young  man  followed.  The  sur 
geon  led  the  way  up  the  stairs,  turned  into  a 
narrow,  musty-smelling  corridor  at  the  left, 
traversed  it,  rattling  the  loose  boards  under  his 
feet,  at  the  farther  end  opened  a  door  at  the 
right,  and  beckoned  his  visitor  to  enter.  The 
young  man  found  himself  in  a  pleasant  room, 
furnished  in  antique  fashion  and  with  hard 
simplicity. 

"  Sit  down,"  said  the  old  man,  placing  a 
chair  so  that  its  occupant  should  face  a  win- 
215 


THE   MONSTER-MAKER 

dow  that  looked  out  upon  a  dead  wall  about 
six  feet  from  the  house.  He  threw  open  the 
blind,  and  a  pale  light  entered.  He  then 
seated  himself  near  his  visitor  and  directly 
facing  him,  and  with  a  searching  look,  that 
had  all  the  power  of  a  microscope,  he  pro 
ceeded  to  diagnosticate  the  case. 

"  Well  ?"  he  presently  asked. 

The  young  man  shifted  uneasily  in  his  seat. 

"  I — I  have  come  to  see  you,"  he  finally 
stammered,  "  because  I'm  in  trouble." 

"Ah!" 

"  Yes ;  you  see,  I — that  is — I  have  given  it 
up." 

"  Ah  !"  There  was  pity  added  to  sym 
pathy  in  the  ejaculation. 

"  That's  it.  Given  it  up,"  added  the  vis 
itor.  He  took  from  his  pocket  a  roll  of  bank 
notes,  and  with  the  utmost  deliberation  he 
counted  them  out  upon  his  knee.  "  Five 
thousand  dollars,"  he  calmly  remarked.  "  That 
is  for  you.  It's  all  I  have  ;  but  I  presume — I 
imagine — no;  that  is  not  the  word — assume 
— yes  ;  that's  the  word — assume  that  five  thou 
sand — is  it  really  that  much  ?  Let  me  count." 
He  counted  again.  "  That  five  thousand  dollars 
is  a  sufficient  fee  for  what  I  want  you  to  do." 

The  surgeon's  lips  curled  pityingly — per- 
216 


THE    MONSTER-MAKER 

haps  disdainfully  also.     "  What  do  you  want 
me  to  do  ?"  he  carelessly  inquired. 

The  young  man  rose,  looked  around  with  a 
mysterious  air,  approached  the  surgeon,  and  laid 
the  money  across  his  knee.  Then  he  stooped 
and  whispered  two  words  in  the  surgeon's  ear. 

These  words  produced  an  eledlric  effeft. 
The  old  man  started  violently  ;  then,  springing 
to  his  feet,  he  caught  his  visitor  angrily,  and 
transfixed  him  with  a  look  that  was  as  sharp  as 
a  knife.  His  eyes  flashed,  and  he  opened  his 
mouth  to  give  utterance  to  some  harsh  impre 
cation,  when  he  suddenly  checked  himself. 
The  anger  left  his  face,  and  only  pity  re 
mained.  He  relinquished  his  grasp,  picked 
up  the  scattered  notes,  and,  offering  them  to 
the  visitor,  slowly  said  : 

"  I  do  not  want  your  money.  You  are 
simply  foolish.  You  think  you  are  in  trouble. 
Well,  you  do  not  know  what  trouble  is. 
Your  only  trouble  is  that  you  have  not  a  trace 
of  manhood  in  your  nature.  You  are  merely 
insane — I  shall  not  say  pusillanimous.  You 
should  surrender  yourself  to  the  authorities, 
and  be  sent  to  a  lunatic  asylum  for  proper 
treatment." 

The  young  man  keenly  felt  the  intended  in 
sult,  and  his  eyes  flashed  dangerously. 
217 


THE    MONSTER-MAKER 

"  You  old  dog — you  insult  me  thus !"  he 
cried.  "  Grand  airs,  these,  you  give  yourself! 
Virtuously  indignant,  old  murderer,  you  ! 
Don't  want  my  money,  eh  ?  When  a  man 
comes  to  you  himself  and  wants  it  done,  you 
fly  into  a  passion  and  spurn  his  money  ;  but 
let  an  enemy  of  his  come  and  pay  you,  and 
you  are  only  too  willing.  How  many  such 
jobs  have  you  done  in  this  miserable  old  hole? 
It  is  a  good  thing  for  you  that  the  police  have 
not  run  you  down,  and  brought  spade  and 
shovel  with  them.  Do  you  know  what  is  said 
of  you  ?  Do  you  think  you  have  kept  your 
windows  so  closely  shut  that  no  sound  has 
ever  penetrated  beyond  them  ?  Where  do 
you  keep  your  infernal  implements?" 

He  had  worked  himself  into  a  high  passion. 
His  voice  was  hoarse,  loud,  and  rasping. 
His  eyes,  bloodshot,  started  from  their  sockets. 
His  whole  frame  twitched,  and  his  fingers 
writhed.  But  he  was  in  the  presence  of  a 
man  infinitely  his  superior.  Two  eyes,  like 
those  of  a  snake,  burned  two  holes  through 
him.  An  overmastering,  inflexible  presence 
confronted  one  weak  and  passionate.  The 
result  came. 

"  Sit  down/'  commanded  the  stern  voice  of 
the  surgeon. 

218 


THE    MONSTER-MAKER 

It  was  the  voice  of  father  to  child,  of  mas 
ter  to  slave.  The  fury  left  the  visitor,  who, 
weak  and  overcome,  fell  upon  a  chair. 

Meanwhile,  a  peculiar  light  had  appeared 
in  the  old  surgeon's  face,  the  dawn  of  a  strange 
idea  ;  a  gloomy  ray,  strayed  from  the  fires  of  the 
bottomless  pit ;  the  baleful  light  that  illumines 
the  way  of  the  enthusiast.  The  old  man  re 
mained  a  moment  in  profound  abstraction, 
gleams  of  eager  intelligence  bursting  momen 
tarily  through  the  cloud  of  sombre  meditation 
that  covered  his  face.  Then  broke  the  broad 
light  of  a  deep,  impenetrable  determination. 
There  was  something  sinister  in  it,  suggesting 
the  sacrifice  of  something  held  sacred.  After 
a  struggle,  mind  had  vanquished  conscience. 

Taking  a  piece  of  paper  and  a  pencil,  the 
surgeon  carefully  wrote  answers  to  questions 
which  he  peremptorily  addressed  to  his  visitor, 
such  as  his  name,  age,  place  of  residence,  oc 
cupation,  and  the  like,  and  the  same  inquiries 
concerning  his  parents,  together  with  other 
particular  matters. 

"  Does  any  one  know  you  came  to  this 
house  ?"  he  asked. 

"  No." 

"  You  swear  it  ?" 

"  Yes." 

219 


THE    MONSTER-MAKER 

"  But  your  prolonged  absence  will  cause 
alarm  and  lead  to  search." 

"  I  have  provided  against  that." 

"  How  ?" 

"  By  depositing  a  note  in  the  post,  as  I 
came  along,  announcing  my  intention  to  drown 
myself." 

"  The  river  will  be  dragged." 

"  What  then  ?"  asked  the  young  man,  shrug 
ging  his  shoulders  with  careless  indifference. 
"  Rapid  undercurrent,  you  know.  A  good 
many  are  never  found." 

There  was  a  pause. 

"  Are  you  ready  r"  finally  asked  the  sur 
geon. 

"  Perfectly."  The  answer  was  cool  and 
determined. 

The  manner  of  the  surgeon,  however, 
showed  much  perturbation.  The  pallor  that 
had  come  into  his  face  at  the  moment  his  de 
cision  was  formed  became  intense.  A  nervous 
tremulousness  came  over  his  frame.  Above  it 
all  shone  the  light  of  enthusiasm. 

"  Have  you  a  choice  in  the  method  ?"  he 
asked. 

"  Yes  ;  extreme  anaesthesia." 

"  With  what  agent  ?" 

"  The  surest  and  quickest." 

220 


THE   MONSTER-MAKER 

"  Do  you  desire  any — any  subsequent  dis 
position  ?" 

"  No  ;  only  nullification  ;  simply  a  blowing 
out,  as  of  a  candle  in  the  wind  ;  a  puff — then 
darkness,  without  a  trace.  A  sense  of  your 
own  safety  may  suggest  the  method.  I  leave 
it  to  you." 

"  No  delivery  to  your  friends  ?" 

"  None  whatever." 

Another  pause. 

"  Did  you  say  you  are  quite  ready  ?"  asked 
the  surgeon. 

"  Quite  ready." 

"  And  perfectly  willing  ?" 

"  Anxious." 

"  Then  wait  a  moment." 

With  this  request  the  old  surgeon  rose  to 
his  feet  and  stretched  himself.  Then  with 
the  stealthiness  of  a  cat  he  opened  the  door 
and  peered  into  the  hall,  listening  intently. 
There  was  no  sound.  He  softly  closed  the 
door  and  locked  it.  Then  he  closed  the 
window-blinds  and  locked  them.  This  done, 
he  opened  a  door  leading  into  an  adjoining 
room,  which,  though  it  had  no  window,  was 
.ighted  by  means  of  a  small  skylight.  The 
young  man  watched  closely.  A  strange  change 
had  come  over  him.  While  his  determination 

221 


THE   MONSTER-MAKER 

had  not  one  whit  lessened,  a  look  of  great  re 
lief  came  into  his  face,  displacing  the  haggard, 
despairing  look  of  a  half-hour  before.  Melam 
cholic  then,  he  was  ecstatic  now. 

The  opening  of  the  second  door  disclosed 
a  curious  sight.  In  the  centre  of  the  room, 
direftly  under  the  skylight,  was  an  operating- 
table,  such  as  is  used  by  demonstrators  of 
anatomy.  A  glass  case  against  the  wall  held 
surgical  instruments  of  every  kind.  Hanging 
in  another  case  were  human  skeletons  of  vari 
ous  sizes.  In  sealed  jars,  arranged  on  shelves, 
were  monstrosities  of  divers  kinds  preserved  in 
alcohol.  There  were  also,  among  innumer 
able  other  articles  scattered  about  the  room,  a 
manikin,  a  stuffed  cat,  a  desiccated  human 
heart,  plaster  casts  of  various  parts  of  the 
body,  numerous  charts,  and  a  large  assortment 
of  drugs  and  chemicals.  There  was  also  a 
lounge,  which  could  be  opened  to  form  a 
couch.  The  surgeon  opened  it  and  moved 
the  operating-table  aside,  giving  its  place  to  the 
lounge. 

"  Come  in,"  he  called  to  his  visitor. 

The  young  man  obeyed  without  the  least 
hesitation. 

"  Take  off  your  coat." 

He  complied. 

222 


THE   MONSTER-MAKER 

"  Lie  down  on  that  lounge." 

In  a  moment  the  young  man  was  stretched 
at  full  length,  eyeing  the  surgeon.  The  latter 
undoubtedly  was  suffering  under  great  excite 
ment,  but  he  did  not  waver ;  his  movements 
were  sure  and  quick.  Selecting  a  bottle  con 
taining  a  liquid,  he  carefully  measured  out  a 
certain  quantity.  While  doing  this  he  asked  : 

"  Have  you  ever  had  any  irregularity  of  the 
heart  ?" 

"No." 

The  answer  was  prompt,  but  it  was  imme 
diately  followed  by  a  quizzical  look  in  the 
speaker's  face. 

"I  presume,"  he  added,  "you  mean  by 
your  question  that  it  might  be  dangerous  to 
give  me  a  certain  drug.  Under  the  circum 
stances,  however,  I  fail  to  see  any  relevancy 
in  your  question." 

This  took  the  surgeon  aback ;  but  he  has 
tened  to  explain  that  he  did  not  wish  to  in- 
flift  unnecessary  pain,  and  hence  his  question. 

He  placed  the  glass  on  a  stand,  approached 
his  visitor,  and  carefully  examined  his  pulse. 

"  Wonderful  !"  he  exclaimed. 

"  Why  ?" 

"  It  is  perfectly  normal." 

"  Because  I  am  wholly  resigned.  Indeed, 
223 


THE   MONSTER-MAKER 

it  has  been  long  since  I  knew  such  happiness. 
It  is  not  aftive,  but  infinitely  sweet." 

"  You  have  no  lingering  desire  to  retraft  ?" 

"  None  whatever." 

The  surgeon  went  to  the  stand  and  returned 
with  the  draught. 

"  Take  this,"  he  said,  kindly. 

The  young  man  partially  raised  himself  and 
took  the  glass  in  his  hand.  He  did  not  show 
the  vibration  of  a  single  nerve.  He  drank  the 
liquid,  draining  the  last  drop.  Then  he  re 
turned  the  glass  with  a  smile. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said ;  "  you  are  the 
noblest  man  that  lives.  May  you  always 
prosper  and  be  happy  !  You  are  my  bene 
factor,  my  liberator.  Bless  you,  bless  you  ! 
You  reach  down  from  your  seat  with  the  gods 
and  lift  me  up  into  glorious  peace  and  rest.  I 
love  you — I  love  you  with  all  my  heart !" 

These  words,  spoken  earnestly,  in  a  musi 
cal,  low  voice,  and  accompanied  with  a  smile 
of  ineffable  tenderness,  pierced  the  old  man's 
heart.  A  suppressed  convulsion  swept  over 
him  ;  intense  anguish  wrung  his  vitals  ;  perspi 
ration  trickled  down  his  face.  The  young 
man  continued  to  smile. 

"  Ah,  it  does  me  good !"  said  he. 

The  surgeon,  with  a  strong  effort  to  control 
224 


THE   MONSTER-MAKER 

himself,  sat  down  upon  the  edge  of  the  lounge 
and  took  his  visitor's  wrist,  counting  the  pulse. 

'"  How  long  will  it  take  ?"  the  young  man 
asked. 

"  Ten  minutes.  Two  have  passed."  The 
voice  was  hoarse. 

"  Ah,  only  eight  minutes  more  !  .  .  .  De 
licious,  delicious !  I  feel  it  coming.  .  .  . 
What  was  that?  .  .  .  Ah,  I  understand. 
Music.  .  .  .  Beautiful !  .  .  .  Coming,  com 
ing.  ...  Is  that — that — water  ?  .  .  .  Trick 
ling  ?  Dripping  ?  Doftor !" 

"  Well  ?" 

"  Thank  you,  .  .  .  thank  you.  .  .  .  Noble 
man,  .  .  .  my  saviour,  .  .  .  my  bene  .  .  . 
bene  .  .  .  faftor.  .  .  .  Trickling,  .  .  .  trick 
ling.  .  .  .  Dripping,  dripping.  .  .  .  Doftor !" 

«  Well  ?" 

"Doftor!" 

"  Past  hearing,"  muttered  the  surgeon. 

"  Doftor !" 

"And  blind." 

Response  was  made  by  a  firm  grasp  of  the 
hand. 

"  Doftor !" 

"  And  numb." 

"  Doftor !" 

The  old  man  watched  and  waited. 
15  225 


THE   MONSTER-MAKER 

"  Dripping,   .   .   .  dripping." 

The  last  drop  had  run.  There  was  a  sigh, 
and  nothing  more. 

The  surgeon  laid  down  the  hand. 

"  The  first  step,'*  he  groaned,  rising  to  his 
feet ;  then  his  whole  frame  dilated.  "  The 
first  step — the  most  difficult,  yet  the  simplest. 
A  providential  delivery  into  my  hands  of  that 
for  which  I  have  hungered  for  forty  years. 
No  withdrawal  now  !  It  is  possible,  because 
scientific;  rational,  but  perilous.  If  I  succeed 
— if?  I  shall  succeed.  I  will  succeed.  .  .  . 
And  after  success — what  ?  .  .  .  Yes ;  what  ? 
Publish  the  plan  and  the  result  ?  The  gallows. 
...  So  long  as  it  shall  exist,  .  .  .  and  1 
exist,  the  gallows.  That  much.  .  .  .  But 
how  account  for  its  presence  ?  Ah,  that 
pinches  hard !  I  must  trust  to  the  future." 

He  tore  himself  from  the  revery  and  started. 

"I  wonder  if  she  heard  or  saw  anything." 

With  that  reflection  he  cast  a  glance  upon 
the  form  on  the  lounge,  and  then  left  the 
room,  locked  the  door,  locked  also  the  door 
of  the  outer  room,  walked  down  two  or  three 
corridors,  penetrated  to  a  remote  part  of  the 
house,  and  rapped  at  a  door.  It  was  opened 
by  his  wife.  He,  by  this  time,  had  regained 
complete  mastery  over  himself. 
226 


THE    MONSTER-MAKER 

"  I  thought  I  heard  some  one  in  the  house 
just  now,"  he  said,  "  but  I  can  find  no  one." 

"  I  heard  nothing." 

He  was  greatly  relieved. 

"  I  did  hear  some  one  knock  at  the  door  less 
than  an  hour  ago."  she  resumed,  "  and  heard 
you  speak,  I  think.  Did  he  come  in  ?" 

"No." 

The  woman  glanced  at  his  feet  and  seemed 
perplexed. 

"I  am  almost  certain,"  she  saij,  "that  I 
heard  foot-falls  in  the  house,  and  yet  I  see 
that  you  are  wearing  slippers." 

"  Oh,  I  had  on  my  shoes  then  !" 

"  That  explains  it,"  said  the  woman,  satis 
fied  ;  "  I  think  the  sound  you  heard  must  have 
been  caused  by  rats." 

"  Ah,  that  was  it !"  exclaimed  the  surgeon. 
Leaving,  he  closed  the  door,  reopened  it,  and 
said,  "  I  do  not  wish  to  be  disturbed  to-day." 
He  said  to  himself,  as  he  went  down  the 
hall,  «  All  is  clear  there." 

He  returned  to  the  room  in  which  his  vis 
itor  lay,  and  made  a  careful  examination. 

"  Splendid  specimen  !"  he  softly  exclaimed  ; 

"  every  organ   sound,  every  function  perfect ; 

fine,  large  frame  ;   well-shaped  muscles,  strong 

and   sinewy  ;    capable   of  wonderful   develop- 

227 


THE   MONSTER-MAKER 

ment  — if  given  opportunity.  ...  I  have  no 
doubt  it  can  be  done.  Already  I  have  suc 
ceeded  with  a  dog, — a  task  less  difficult  than 
this,  for  in  a  man  the  cerebrum  overlaps  the 
cerebellum,  which  is  not  the  case  with  a  dog. 
This  gives  a  wide  range  for  accident,  with  but 
one  opportunity  in  a  lifetime  !  In  the  cere- 
rum,  the  intellect  and  the  affections ;  in  the 
cerebellum,  the  senses  and  the  motor  forces ; 
in  the  medulla  oblongata,  control  of  the  dia 
phragm.  In  these  two  latter  lie  all  the  essen 
tials  of  simple  existence.  The  cerebrum  is 
merely  an  adornment ;  that  is  to  say,  reason 
and  the  affections  are  almost  purely  ornamental. 
I  have  already  proved  it.  My  dog,  with  its 
cerebrum  removed,  was  idiotic,  but  it  retained 
its  physical  senses  to  a  certain  degree." 

While  thus  ruminating  he  made  careful 
preparations.  He  moved  the  couch,  replaced 
the  operating-table  under  the  skylight,  selected 
a  number  of  surgical  instruments,  prepared 
certain  drug-mixtures,  and  arranged  water, 
towels,  and  all  the  accessories  of  a  tedious 
surgical  operation.  Suddenly  he  burst  into 
laughter. 

"  Poor  fool !"  he  exclaimed.  "  Paid  me 
five  thousand  dollars  to  kill  him  !  Didn't  have 
the  courage  to  snuff  his  own  candle  !  Singu- 
228 


THE   MONSTER-MAKER 

lar,  singular,  the  queer  freaks  these  madmen 
have !  You  thought  you  were  dying,  poor 
idiot !  Allow  me  to  inform  you,  sir,  that  you 
are  as  much  alive  at  this  moment  as  ever  you 
were  in  your  life.  But  it  will  be  all  the  same 
to  you.  You  shall  never  be  more  conscious 
than  you  are  now  ;  and  for  all  practical  pur 
poses,  so  far  as  they  concern  you,  you  are 
dead  henceforth,  though  you  shall  live.  By  the 
way,  how  should  you  feel  without  a  bead? 
Ha,  ha,  ha  !  .  .  .  But  that's  a  sorry  joke." 

He  lifted  the  unconscious  form  from  the 
lounge  and  laid  it  upon  the  operating-table. 

#          #          #          #          #          *          * 

About  three  years  afterwards  the  following 
conversation  was  held  between  a  captain  of 
police  and  a  detective  : 

"  She  may  be  insane,"  suggested  the  cap 
tain. 

"  I  think  she  is." 

"  And  yet  you  credit  her  story  !" 

"  I  do." 

"  Singular !" 

"  Not  at  all.  I  myself  have  learned  some 
thing." 

"What!" 

"  Much,  in  one  sense ;  little,  in  another. 
You  have  heard  those  queer  stories  of  her 
229 


THE   MONSTER-MAKER 

husband.  Well,  they  are  all  nonsensical — 
probably  with  one  exception.  He  is  generally 
a  harmless  old  fellow,  but  peculiar.  He  has 
performed  some  wonderful  surgical  operations. 
The  people  in  his  neighborhood  are  ignorant, 
and  they  fear  him  and  wish  to  be  rid  of  him ; 
hence  they  tell  a  great  many  lies  about  him, 
and  they  come  to  believe  their  own  stories. 
The  one  important  thing  that  I  have  learned 
is  that  he  is  almost  insanely  enthusiastic  on 
the  subject  of  surgery — especially  experimen 
tal  surgery ;  and  with  an  enthusiast  there  is 
hardly  such  a  thing  as  a  scruple.  It  is  this 
that  gives  me  confidence  in  the  woman's 
story." 

"  You  say  she  appeared  to  be  frightened  ?" 

"  Doubly  so — first,  she  feared  that  her  hus 
band  would  learn  of  her  betrayal  of  him ; 
second,  the  discovery  itself  had  terrified  her." 

"But  her  report  of  this  discovery  is  very 
vague,"  argued  the  captain.  "  He  conceals 
everything  from  her.  She  is  merely  guessing." 

"  In  part — yes  ;  in  other  part — no.  She 
heard  the  sounds  distinctly,  though  she  did  not 
see  clearly.  Horror  closed  her  eyes.  What 
she  thinks  she  saw  is,  I  admit,  preposterous ; 
but  she  undoubtedly  saw  something  extremely 
frightful.  There  are  many  peculiar  little  cir- 
230 


THE    MONSTER-MAKER 

cumstances.  He  has  eaten  with  her  hut  few 
times  during  the  last  three  years,  and  nearly 
always  carries  his  food  to  his  private  rooms. 
She  says  that  he  either  consumes  an  enormous 
quantity,  throws  much  away,  or  is  feeding 
something  that  eats  prodigiously.  He  explains 
this  to  her  by  saying  that  he  has  animals  with 
which  he  experiments.  This  is  not  true. 
Again,  he  always  keeps  the  door  to  these 
rooms  carefully  locked  ;  and  not  only  that,  but 
he  has  had  the  doors  doubled  and  otherwise 
strengthened,  and  has  heavily  barred  a  window 
that  looks  from  one  of  the  rooms  upon  a  dead 
wall  a  few  feet  distant." 

"  What  does  it  mean  ?"  asked  the  captain. 

"A  prison." 

"  For  animals,  perhaps." 

"  Certainly  not." 

"  Why  !" 

"  Because,  in  the  first  place,  cages  would 
have  been  better  ;  in  the  second  place,  the 
security  that  he  has  provided  is  infinitely 
greater  than  that  required  for  the  confinement 
of  ordinary  animals." 

"All  this  is  easily  explained:  he  has  a 
violent  lunatic  under  treatment." 

"  I  had  thought  of  that,  but  such  is  not  the 
faft." 

231 


THE    MONSTER-MAKER 

"  How  do  you  know  ?" 

"  By  reasoning  thus  :  He  has  always  refused 
to  treat  cases  of  lunacy  ;  he  confines  himself 
to  surgery  ;  the  walls  are  not  padded,  for  the 
woman  has  heard  sharp  blows  upon  them  ;  no 
human  strength,  however  morbid,  could  possi 
bly  require  such  resisting  strength  as  has  been 
provided  ;  he  would  not  be  likely  to  conceal  a 
lunatic's  confinement  from  the  woman ;  no 
lunatic  could  consume  all  the  food  that  he 
provides  ;  so  extremely  violent  mania  as  these 
precautions  indicate  could  not  continue  three 
years  ;  if  there  is  a  lunatic  in  the  case  it  is 
very  probable  that  there  should  have  been 
communication  with  some  one  outside  con 
cerning  the  patient,  and  there  has  been  none  ; 
the  woman  has  listened  at  the  keyhole  and  has 
heard  no  human  voice  within ;  and  last,  we 
have  heard  the  woman's  vague  description  of 
what  she  saw." 

"  You  have  destroyed  every  possible  theory," 
said  the  captain,  deeply  interested,  "  and  have 
suggested  nothing  new." 

"  Unfortunately,  I  cannot ;  but  the  truth 
may  be  very  simple,  after  all.  The  old  sur 
geon  is  so  peculiar  that  I  am  prepared  to  dis 
cover  something  remarkable." 

"  Have  you  suspicions  ?" 
232 


THE   MONSTER-MAKER 

"  I  have." 

"  Of  what  ?" 

"  A  crime.     The  woman  suspefts  it." 

"And  betrays  it?" 

"  Certainly,  because  it  is  so  horrible  that 
her  humanity  revolts ;  so  terrible  that  her 
whole  nature  demands  of  her  that  she  hand 
over  the  criminal  to  the  law ;  so  frightful  that 
she  is  in  mortal  terror ;  so  awful  that  it  has 
shaken  her  mind." 

"  What  do  you  propose  to  do  ?"  asked  the 
captain. 

"  Secure  evidence.     I  may  need  help." 

"  You  shall  have  all  the  men  you  require. 
Go  ahead,  but  be  careful.  You  are  on  dan 
gerous  ground.  You  would  be  a  mere  play 
thing  in  the  hands  of  that  man." 

Two  days  afterwards  the  deteftive  again 
sought  the  captain. 

"  I  have  a  queer  document,"  he  said,  exhib 
iting  torn  fragments  of  paper,  on  which  there 
was  writing.  "  The  woman  stole  it  and 
brought  it  to  me.  She  snatched  a  handful  out 
of  a  book,  getting  only  a  part  of  each  of  a  few 
leaves." 

These  fragments,  which  the  men  arranged 
as  best  they  could,  were  (the  detective  ex 
plained)  torn  by  the  surgeon's  wife  from  the 
233 


THE    MONSTER-MAKER 

first  volume  of  a  number  of  manuscript  books 
which  her  husband  had  written  on  one  subjedl, 
— the  very  one  that  was  the  cause  of  her  ex 
citement.  "  About  the  time  that  he  began  a 
certain  experiment  three  years  ago,"  continued 
the  detedtive,  "  he  removed  everything  from 
the  suite  of  two  rooms  containing  his  study 
and  his  operating-room.  In  one  of  the  book 
cases  that  he  removed  to  a  room  across  the 
passage  was  a  drawer,  which  he  kept  locked, 
but  which  he  opened  from  time  to  time.  As 
is  quite  common  with  such  pieces  of  furniture, 
the  lock  of  the  drawer  is  a  very  poor  one  ;  and 
so  the  woman,  while  making  a  thorough  search 
yesterday,  found  a  key  on  her  bunch  that 
fitted  this  lock.  She  opened  the  drawer, 
drew  out  the  bottom  book  of  a  pile  (so  that 
its  mutilation  would  more  likely  escape  dis 
covery),  saw  that  it  might  contain  a  clew,  and 
tore  out  a  handful  of  the  leaves.  She  had 
barely  replaced  the  book,  locked  the  drawer, 
and  made  her  escape  when  her  husband  ap 
peared.  He  hardly  ever  allows  her  to  be  out 
of  his  sight  when  she  is  in  that  part  of  the 
house." 

The  fragments  read  as  follows  :  "  .   .   .  the 
motory   nerves.      I  had   hardly  dared   to   hope 
for  such  a  result,  although  indudlive  reasoning 
234 


THE   MONSTER-MAKER 

had  convinced  me  of  its  possibility,  my  only 
doubt  having  been  on  the  score  of  my  lack  of 
skill.  Their  operation  has  been  only  slightly 
impaired,  and  even  this  would  not  have  been 
the  case  had  the  operation  been  performed  in 
infancy,  before  the  intellect  had  sought  and 
obtained  recognition  as  an  essential  part  of  the 
whole.  Therefore  I  state,  as  a  proved  faft, 
that  the  "cells  of  the  motory  nerves  have  in 
herent  forces  sufficient  to  the  purposes  of  those 
nerves.  But  hardly  so  with  the  sensory 
nerves.  These  latter  are,  in  faft,  an  offshoot 
of  the  former,  evolved  from  them  by  natural 
(though  not  essential)  heterogeneity,  and  to  a 
certain  extent  are  dependent  on  the  evolution 
and  expansion  of  a  contemporaneous  tendency, 
that  developed  into  mentality,  or  mental  func 
tion.  Both  of  these  latter  tendencies,  these 
evolvements,  are  merely  refinements  of  the 
motory  system,  and  not  independent  entities ; 
that  is  to  say,  they  are  the  blossoms  of  a  plant 
that  propagates  from  its  roots.  The  motory 
system  is  the  first  .  .  .  nor  am  I  surprised 
that  such  prodigious  muscular  energy  is  devel 
oping.  It  promises  yet  to  surpass  the  wildest 
dreams  of  human  strength.  I  account  for  it 
thus:  The  powers  of  assimilation  had  reached 
their  full  development.  They  had  formed  the 
235 


THE    MONSTER-MAKER 

habit  of  doing  a  certain  amount  of  work.  They 
sent  their  products  to  all  parts  of  the  system. 
As  a  result  of  my  operation  the  consumption 
of  these  produces  was  reduced  fully  one-half; 
that  is  to  say,  about  one-half  of  the  demand 
for  them  was  withdrawn.  But  force  of  habit 
required  the  production  to  proceed.  This 
production  was  strength,  vitality,  energy. 
Thus  double  the  usual  quantity  of  this 
strength,  this  energy,  was  stored  in  the  re 
maining  .  .  .  developed  a  tendency  that  did 
surprise  me.  Nature,  no  longer  suffering  the 
distraction  of  extraneous  interferences,  and  at 
the  same  time  being  cut  in  two  (as  it  were), 
with  reference  to  this  case,  did  not  fully  adjust 
herself  to  the  new  situation,  as  does  a  magnet, 
which,  when  divided  at  the  point  of  equilib 
rium,  renews  itself  in  its  two  fragments  by  in 
vesting  each  with  opposite  poles ;  but,  on  the 
contrary,  being  severed  from  laws  that  there 
tofore  had  controlled  her,  and  possessing  still 
that  mysterious  tendency  to  develop  into  some 
thing  more  potential  and  complex,  she  blindly 
(having  lost  her  lantern)  pushed  her  demands 
for  material  that  would  secure  this  develop 
ment,  and  as  blindly  used  it  when  it  was  given 
her.  Hence  this  marvellous  voracity,  this  in 
satiable  hunger,  this  wonderful  ravenousness ; 
236 


THE   MONSTER-MAKER 

and  hence  also  (there  being  nothing  but  the 
physical  part  to  receive  this  vast  storing  of 
energy)  this  strength  that  is  becoming  almost 
hourly  herculean,  almost  daily  appalling.  It 
is  becoming  a  serious  .  .  .  narrow  escape  to 
day.  By  some  means,  while  I  was  absent,  it 
unscrewed  the  stopper  of  the  silver  feeding- 
pipe  (which  I  have  already  herein  termed 
'  the  artificial  mouth'),  and,  in  one  of  its 
curious  antics,  allowed  all  the  chyle  to  escape 
from  its  stomach  through  the  tube.  Its  hun 
ger  then  became  intense — I  may  say  furious. 
I  placed  my  hands  upon  it  to  push  it  into  a 
chair,  when,  feeling  my  touch,  it  caught  me, 
clasped  me  around  the  neck,  and  would  have 
crushed  me  to  death  instantly  had  I  not 
slipped  from  its  powerful  grasp.  Thus  I 
always  had  to  be  on  my  guard.  I  have  pro 
vided  the  screw  stopper  with  a  spring  catch, 
and  .  .  .  usually  docile  when  not  hungry ; 
slow  and  heavy  in  its  movements,  which  are, 
of  course,  purely  unconscious  ;  any  apparent 
excitement  in  movement  being  due  to  local 
irregularities  in  the  blood-supply  of  the  cere 
bellum,  which,  if  I  did  not  have  it  enclosed  in 
a  silver  case  that  is  immovable,  I  should  expose 
and  ..." 

237 


THE   MONSTER-MAKER 

The  captain  looked  at  the  deteftive  with  a 
puzzled  air. 

"  I  don't  understand  it  at  all,"  said  he. 

"  Nor  I,"  agreed  the  detedlive. 

"  What  do  you  propose  to  do  ?" 

"  Make  a  raid." 

"  Do  you  want  a  man  ?" 

"  Three.  The  strongest  men  in  your  dis- 
trift." 

"  Why,  the  surgeon  is  old  and  weak  !" 

"  Nevertheless,  I  want  three  strong  men ; 
and  for  that  matter,  prudence  really  advises  me 
to  take  twenty." 

;fc          %.  ^          %.          ^c          %.          ;{c 

At  one  o'clock  the  next  morning  a  cautious, 
scratching  sound  might  have  been  heard  in 
the  ceiling  of  the  surgeon's  operating-room. 
Shortly  afterwards  the  skylight  sash  was  care 
fully  raised  and  laid  aside.  A  man  peered 
into  the  opening.  Nothing  could  be  heard. 

"  That  is  singular,"  thought  the  deteclive. 

He  cautiously  lowered  himself  to  the  floor 
by  a  rope,  and  then  stood  for  some  moments 
listening  intently.  There  was  a  dead  silence. 
He  shot  the  slide  of  a  dark-lantern,  and 
rapidly  swept  the  room  with  the  light.  It 
was  bare,  with  the  exception  of  a  strong  iron 
staple  and  ring,  screwed  to  the  floor  in  the 
238 


THE   MONSTER-MAKER 

centre  of  the  room,  with  a  heavy  chain  at 
tached.  The  deteftive  then  turned  his  atten 
tion  to  the  outer  room  ;  it  was  perfectly  bare. 
He  was  deeply  perplexed.  Returning  to  the 
inner  room,  he  called  softly  to  the  men  to  de 
scend.  While  they  were  thus  occupied  he 
re-entered  the  outer  room  and  examined  the 
door.  A  glance  sufficed.  It  was  kept  closed 
by  a  spring  attachment,  and  was  locked  with 
a  strong  spring-lock  that  could  be  drawn  from 
the  inside. 

"  The  bird  has  just  flown,"  mused  the  de- 
teftive.  "  A  singular  accident !  The  dis 
covery  and  proper  use  of  this  thumb-bolt 
might  not  have  happened  once  in  fifty  years, 
if  my  theory  is  correct." 

By  this  time  the  men  were  behind  him.  He 
noiselessly  drew  the  spring-bolt,  opened  the 
door,  and  looked  out  into  the  hall.  He  heard 
a  peculiar  sound.  It  was  as  though  a  gigantic 
lobster  was  floundering  and  scrambling  in  some 
distant  part  of  the  old  house.  Accompanying 
this  sound  was  a  loud,  whistling  breathing,  and 
frequent  rasping  gasps. 

These  sounds  were  heard  by  still  another 
person — the  surgeon's  wife  ;  for  they  originated 
very  near  her  rooms,  which  were  a  consider 
able  distance  from  her  husband's.  She  had 
239 


THE   MONSTER-MAKER 

been  sleeping  lightly,  tortured  by  fear  and 
harassed  by  frightful  dreams.  The  conspiracy 
into  which  she  had  recently  entered,  for  the 
destruction  of  her  husband,  was  a  source  of 
great  anxiety.  She  constantly  suffered  from 
the  most  gloomy  forebodings,  and  lived  in  an 
atmosphere  of  terror.  Added  to  the  natural 
horror  of  her  situation  were  those  countless 
sources  of  fear  which  a  fright-shaken  mind 
creates  and  then  magnifies.  She  was,  indeed, 
in  a  pitiable  state,  having  been  driven  first  by 
terror  to  desperation,  and  then  to  madness. 

Startled  thus  out  of  fitful  slumber  by  the 
noise  at  her  door,  she  sprang  from  her  bed  to 
the  floor,  every  terror  that  lurked  in  her  acutely 
tense  mind  and  diseased  imagination  starting 
up  and  almost  overwhelming  her.  The  idea 
of  flight — one  of  the  strongest  of  all  instincts 
— seized  upon  her,  and  she  ran  to  the  door, 
beyond  all  control  of  reason.  She  drew  the 
bolt  and  flung  the  door  wide  open,  and  then 
fled  wildly  down  the  passage,  the  appalling 
hissing  and  rasping  gurgle  ringing  in  her  ears 
apparently  with  a  thousandfold  intensity.  But 
the  passage  was  in  absolute  darkness,  and  she 
had  not  taken  a  half-dozen  steps  when  she 
tripped  upon  an  unseen  objeft  on  the  floor. 
She  fell  headlong  upon  it,  encountering  in  it  a 
240 


THE   MONSTER-MAKER 

large,  soft,  warm  substance  that  writhed  and 
squirmed,  and  from  which  came  the  sounds 
that  had  awakened  her.  Instantly  realizing  her 
situation,  she  uttered  a  shriek  such  as  only  an 
unnamable  terror  can  inspire.  But  hardly  had 
her  cry  started  the  echoes  in  the  empty  cor 
ridor  when  it  was  suddenly  stifled.  Two  pro 
digious  arms  had  closed  upon  her  and  crushed 
the  life  out  of  her. 

The  cry  performed  the  office  of  directing 
the  deteftive  and  his  assistants,  and  it  also 
aroused  the  old  surgeon,  who  occupied  rooms 
between  the  officers  and  the  objeft  of  their 
search.  The  cry  of  agony  pierced  him  to  the 
marrow,  and  a  realization  of  the  cause  of  it 
burst  upon  him  with  frightful  force. 

"  It  has  come  at  last !"  he  gasped,  springing 
from  his  bed. 

Snatching  from  a  table  a  dimly-burning  lamp 
and  a  long  knife  which  he  had  kept  at  hand 
for  three  years,  he  dashed  into  the  corridor. 
The  four  officers  had  already  started  forward, 
but  when  they  saw  him  emerge  they  halted 
in  silence.  In  that  moment  of  stillness  the 
surgeon  paused  to  listen.  He  heard  the  hissing 
sound  and  the  clumsy  floundering  of  a  bulky, 
living  objecl:  in  the  direction  of  his  wife's  apart 
ments.  It  evidently  was  advancing  towards 
16  241 


THE    MONSTER-MAKER 

him.  A  turn  in  the  corridor  shut  out  the 
view.  He  turned  up  the  light,  which  re 
vealed  a  ghastly  pallor  in  his  face. 

«  Wife  !"  he  called. 

There  was  no  response.  He  hurriedly  ad 
vanced,  the  four  men  following  quietly.  He 
turned  the  angle  of  the  corridor,  and  ran  so 
rapidly  that  by  the  time  the  officers  had  come 
in  sight  of  him  again  he  was  twenty  steps 
away.  He  ran  past  a  huge,  shapeless  objeft, 
sprawling,  crawling,  and  floundering  along, 
and  arrived  at  the  body  of  his  wife. 

He  gave  one  horrified  glance  at  her  face, 
and  staggered  away.  Then  a  fury  seized  him. 
Clutching  the  knife  firmly,  and  holding  the 
lamp  aloft,  he  sprang  toward  the  ungainly 
objedl  in  the  corridor.  It  was  then  that  the 
officers,  still  advancing  cautiously,  saw  a  little 
more  clearly,  though  still  indistinctly,  the  object 
of  the  surgeon's  fury,  and  the  cause  of  the 
look  of  unutterable  anguish  in  his  face.  The 
hideous  sight  caused  them  to  pause.  They 
saw  what  appeared  to  be  a  man,  yet  evidently 
was  not  a  man  ;  huge,  awkward,  shapeless ;  a 
squirming,  lurching,  stumbling  mass,  com 
pletely  naked.  It  raised  its  broad  shoulders. 
//  had  no  bead,  but  instead  of  it  a  small  metal 
lic  ball  surmounting  its  massive  neck. 
242 


THE    MONSTER-MAKER 

"Devil!"  exclaimed  the  surgeon,  raising 
the  knife. 

"  Hold,  there !"  commanded  a  stern 
voice. 

The  surgeon  quickly  raised  his  eyes  and  saw 
the  four  officers,  and  for  a  moment  fear  para 
lyzed  his  arm. 

"  The  police  !"  he  gasped. 

Then,  with  a  look  of  redoubled  fury,  he 
sent  the  knife  to  the  hilt  into  the  squirming 
mass  before  him.  The  wounded  monster 
sprang  to  its  feet  and  wildly  threw  its  arms 
about,  meanwhile  emitting  fearful  sounds  from 
a  silver  tube  through  which  it  breathed.  The 
surgeon  aimed  another  blow,  but  never  gave 
it.  In  his  blind  fury  he  lost  his  caution,  and 
was  caught  in  an  iron  grasp.  The  struggling 
threw  the  lamp  some  feet  toward  the  officers, 
and  it  fell  to  the  floor,  shattered  to  pieces. 
Simultaneously  with  the  crash  the  oil  took  fire, 
and  the  corridor  was  filled  with  flame.  The 
officers  could  not  approach.  Before  them  was 
the  spreading  blaze,  and  secure  behind  it  were 
two  forms  struggling  in  a  fearful  embrace. 
They  heard  cries  and  gasps,  and  saw  the 
gleaming  of  a  knife. 

The  wood  in  the  house  was  old  and  dry. 
It  took  fire  at  once,  and  the  flames  spread  with 


THE   MONSTER-MAKER 

great  rapidity.  The  four  officers  turned  and 
fled,  barely  escaping  with  their  lives.  In  an 
hour  nothing  remained  of  the  mysterious 
old  house  and  its  inmates  but  a  blackened 
ruin. 


An  Original  Revenge 


ON  a  certain  day  I  received  a  letter  from 
a  private  soldier,  named  Gratmar,  at 
tached  to  the  garrison  of  San  Francisco.  I 
had  known  him  but  slightly,  the  acquaintance 
having  come  about  through  his  interest  in 
some  stories  which  I  had  published,  and  which 
he  had  a  way  of  calling  "  psychological  stud 
ies."  He  was  a  dreamy,  romantic,  fine-grained 
lad,  proud  as  a  tiger-lily  and  sensitive  as  a  blue 
bell.  What  mad  caprice  led  him  to  join  the 
army  I  never  knew  ;  but  I  did  know  that 
there  he  was  wretchedly  out  of  place,  and  I 
foresaw  that  his  rude  and  repellant  environ 
ment  would  make  of  him  in  time  a  deserter, 
or  a  suicide,  or  a  murderer.  The  letter  at 
first  seemed  a  wild  outpouring  of  despair,  for 
it  informed  me  that  before  it  should  reach  me 
its  author  would  be  dead  by  his  own  hand. 
But  when  I  had  read  farther  I  understood  its 
spirit,  and  realized  how  coolly  formed  a 
scheme  it  disclosed  and  how  terrible  its  pur- 
245 


AN   ORIGINAL   REVENGE 

port  was  intended  to  be.  The  worst  of  the 
contents  was  the  information  that  a  certain 
officer  (whom  he  named)  had  driven  him  to 
the  deed,  and  that  be  was  committing  suicide  for 
the  sole  purpose  of  gaining  thereby  the  power  to 
revenge  himself  upon  his  enemy  !  I  learned  after 
ward  that  the  officer  had  received  a  similar 
letter. 

This  was  so  puzzling  that  I  sat  down  to  re 
flect  upon  the  young  man's  peculiarities.  He 
had  always  seemed  somewhat  uncanny,  and 
had  I  proved  more  sympathetic  he  doubtless 
would  have  gone  farther  and  told  me  of  cer 
tain  problems  which  he  professed  to  have 
solved  concerning  the  life  beyond  this.  One 
thing  that  he  had  said  came  back  vividly  :  "  If 
I  could  only  overcome  that  purely  gross  and 
animal  love  of  life  that  makes  us  all  shun 
death,  I  would  kill  myself,  for  I  know  how 
far  more  powerful  I  could  be  in  spirit  than  in 
flesh." 

The  manner  of  the  suicide  was  startling, 
and  that  was  what  might  have  been  expected 
from  this  odd  character.  Evidently  scorning 
the  flummery  of  funerals,  he  had  gone  into  a 
little  canyon  near  the  military  reservation  and 
blown  himself  into  a  million  fragments  with 
dynamite,  so  that  all  of  him  that  was  ever 
246 


AN   ORIGINAL   REVENGE 

found  was  some  minute  particles  of  flesh  and 
bone. 

I  kept  the  letter  a  secret,  for  I  desired  to 
observe  the  officer  without  rousing  his  suspicion 
of  my  purpose ;  it  would  be  an  admirable  test 
of  a  dead  man's  power  and  deliberate  intention 
to  haunt  the  living,  for  so  I  interpreted  the 
letter.  The  officer  thus  to  be  punished  was 
an  oldish  man,  short,  apopleclic,  overbearing, 
and  irascible.  Generally  he  was  kind  to  most 
of  the  men  in  a  way ;  but  he  was  gross  and 
mean,  and  that  explained  sufficiently  his  harsh 
treatment  of  young  Gratmar,  whom  he  could 
not  understand,  and  his  efforts  to  break  that 
flighty  young  man's  spirit. 

Not  very  long  after  the  suicide  certain  modi 
fications  in  the  officer's  conduft  became  ap 
parent  to  my  watchful  oversight.  His  choler, 
though  none  the  less  sporadic,  developed  a 
quality  which  had  some  of  the  characteristics 
of  senility  ;  and  yet  he  was  still  in  his  prime, 
and  passed  for  a  sound  man.  He  was  a  bach 
elor,  and  had  lived  always  alone  ;  but  presently 
he  began  to  shirk  solitude  at  night  and  court 
it  in  daylight.  His  brother-officers  chaffed 
him,  and  thereupon  he  would  laugh  in  rather 
a  forced  and  silly  fashion,  quite  different  from 
the  ordinary  way  with  him,  and  would  some- 
247 


AN   ORIGINAL   REVENGE 

times,  on  these  occasions,  blush  so  violently 
that  his  face  would  become  almost  purple. 
His  soldierly  alertness  and  sternness  relaxed 
surprisingly  at  some  times  and  at  others  were 
exaggerated  into  unnecessary  acerbity,  his  con- 
duel:  in  this  regard  suggesting  that  of  a  drunken 
man  who  knows  that  he  is  drunk  and  who  now 
and  then  makes  a  brave  effort  to  appear  sober. 
All  these  things,  and  more,  indicating  some 
mental  strain,  or  some  dreadful  apprehension, 
or  perhaps  something  worse  than  either,  were 
observed  partly  by  me  and  partly  by  an  intelli 
gent  officer  whose  watch  upon  the  man  had 
been  secured  by  me. 

To  be  more  particular,  the  afflidled  man 
was  observed  often  to  start  suddenly  and  in 
alarm,  look  quickly  round,  and  make  some  un 
intelligent  monosyllabic  answer,  seemingly  to 
an  inaudible  question  that  no  visible  person 
had  asked.  He  acquired  the  reputation,  too, 
of  having  taken  lately  to  nightmares,  for  in 
the  middle  of  the  night  he  would  shriek  in 
the  most  dreadful  fashion,  alarming  his  room 
mates  prodigiously.  After  these  attacks  he 
would  sit  up  in  bed,  his  ruddy  face  devoid  of 
color,  his  eyes  glassy  and  shining,  his  breath 
ing  broken  with  gasps,  and  his  body  wet  with 
a  cold  perspiration. 

248 


AN   ORIGINAL   REVENGE 

Knowledge  of  these  developments  and  trans 
formations  spread  throughout  the  garrison  ;  but 
the  few  (mostly  women)  who  dared  to  express 
sympathy  or  suggest  a  tonic  encountered  so 
violent  rebuffs  that  they  blessed  Heaven  for 
escaping  alive  from  his  word-volleys.  Even 
the  garrison  surgeon,  who  had  a  kindly  manner, 
and  the  commanding  general,  who  was  con 
structed  on  dignified  and  impressive  lines,  re 
ceived  little  thanks  for  their  solicitude.  Clearly 
the  doughty  old  officer,  who  had  fought  like  a 
bulldog  in  two  wars  and  a  hundred  battles, 
was  suffering  deeply  from  some  undiscoverable 
malady. 

The  next  extraordinary  thing  which  he  did 
was  to  visit  one  evening  (not  so  clandestinely 
as  to  escape  my  watch)  a  spirit  medium — ex 
traordinary,  because  he  always  had  scoffed  at 
the  idea  of  spirit  communications.  I  saw  him 
as  he  was  leaving  the  medium's  rooms.  His 
face  was  purple,  his  eyes  were  bulging  and 
terrified,  and  he  tottered  in  his  walk.  A 
policeman,  seeing  his  distress,  advanced  to 
assist  him ;  whereupon  the  soldier  hoarsely 
begged,— 

"  Call  a  hack." 

Into  it  he  fell,  and  asked  to  be  driven  to  his 
quarters.  I  hastily  ascended  to  the  medium's 
249 


AN   ORIGINAL   REVENGE 

rooms,  and  found  her  lying  unconscious  on  the 
floor.  Soon,  with  my  aid,  she  recalled  her 
wits,  but  her  conscious  state  was  even  more 
alarming  than  the  other.  At  first  she  regarded 
me  with  terror,  and  cried, — 

"  It  is  horrible  for  you  to  hound  him  so  !" 

I  assured  her  that  I  was  hounding  no  one. 

"  Oh,  I  thought  you  were  the  spir — I  mean 
— I — oh,  but  it  was  standing  exaftly  where 
you  are  !"  she  exclaimed. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  I  agreed,  "  but  you  can  see 
that  I  am  not  the  young  man's  spirit.  How 
ever,  I  am  familiar  with  this  whole  case, 
madam,  and  if  I  can  be  of  any  service  in  the 
matter  I  should  be  glad  if  you  would  inform 
me.  I  am  aware  that  our  friend  is  persecuted 
by  a  spirit,  which  visits  him  frequently,  and  I 
am  positive  that  through  you  it  has  informed 
him  that  the  end  is  not  far  away,  and  that  our 
elderly  friend's  death  will  assume  some  terrible 
form.  Is  there  anything  that  I  can  do  to  avert 
the  tragedy  ?" 

The  woman  stared  at  me  in  a  horrified 
silence.  "  How  did  you  know  these  things  ?" 
she  gasped. 

"  That  is  immaterial.  When  will  the 
tragedy  occur  ?  Can  I  prevent  it  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes  !"  she  exclaimed.  "  It  will 
250 


AN   ORIGINAL   REVENGE 

happen  this  very  night !  But  no  earthly  power 
can  prevent  it !" 

She  came  close  to  me  and  looked  at  me  with 
an  expression  of  the  most  acute  terror. 

"  Merciful  God  !  what  will  become  of  me  ? 
He  is  to  be  murdered,  you  understand — mur 
dered  in  cold  blood  by  a  spirit — and  he  knows 
it  and  /  know  it !  If  he  is  spared  long  enough 
he  will  tell  them  at  the  garrison,  and  they  will 
all  think  that  I  had  something  to  do  with  it ! 
Oh,  this  is  terrible,  terrible,  and  yet  I  dare 
not  say  a  word  in  advance — nobody  there 
would  believe  in  what  the  spirits  say,  and  they 
will  think  that  I  had  a  hand  in  the  murder !" 
The  woman's  agony  was  pitiful. 

"  Be  assured  that  he  will  say  nothing  about 
it,"  I  said ;  "  and  if  you  keep  your  tongue 
from  wagging  you  need  fear  nothing.'* 

With  this  and  a  few  other  hurried  words 
of  comfort,  I  soothed  her  and  hastened  away. 

For  I  had  interesting  work  on  hand :  it  is 
not  often  that  one  may  be  in  at  such  a  murder 
as  that !  I  ran  to  a  livery  stable,  secured  a 
swift  horse,  mounted  him,  and  spurred  furi 
ously  for  the  reservation.  The  hack,  with  its 
generous  start,  had  gone  far  on  its  way,  but 
my  horse  was  nimble,  and  his  legs  felt  the 
pricking  of  my  eagerness.  A  few  miles  of 
251 


AN   ORIGINAL   REVENGE 

this  furious  pursuit  brought  me  within  sight 
of  the  hack  just  as  it  was  crossing  a  dark 
ravine  near  the  reservation.  As  I  came  nearer 
I  imagined  that  the  hack  swayed  somewhat, 
and  that  a  fleeing  shadow  escaped  from  it  into 
the  tree-banked  further  wall  of  the  ravine.  I 
certainly  was  not  in  error  with  regard  to  the 
swaying,  for  it  had  roused  the  dull  notice  of  the 
driver.  1  saw  him  turn,  with  an  air  of  alarm 
in  his  aftion,  and  then  pull  up  with  a  heavy 
swing  upon  the  reins.  At  this  moment  I 
dashed  up  and  halted. 

"  Anything  the  matter  ?"  I  asked. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  answered,  getting  down. 
"  I  felt  the  carriage  sway,  and  I  see  that  the 
door's  wide  open.  Guess  my  load  thought 
he'd  sobered  up  enough  to  get  out  and  walk, 
without  troubling  me  or  his  pocket-book." 

Meanwhile  I  too  had  alighted  ;  then  struck 
a  match,  and  by  its  light  we  discovered, 
through  the  open  door,  the  "load"  huddled 
confusedly  on  the  floor  of  the  hack,  face  up 
ward,  his  chin  compressed  upon  his  breast  by 
his  leaning  against  the  further  door,  and  look 
ing  altogether  vulgar,  misshapen,  and  misera 
bly  unlike  a  soldier.  He  neither  moved  nor 
spoke  when  we  called.  We  hastily  clambered 
within  and  lifted  him  upon  the  seat,  but  his 
252 


AN  ORIGINAL   REVENGE 

head  rolled  about  with  an  awful  looseness  and 
freedom,  and  another  match  disclosed  a  ghastly 
dead  face  and  wide  eyes  that  stared  horribly  at 
nothing. 

"  You  would  better  drive  the  body  to  head 
quarters,"  I  said. 

Instead  of  following,  I  cantered  back  to 
town,  housed  my  horse,  and  went  straightway 
to  bed ;  and  this  will  prove  to  be  the  first 
information  that  I  was  the  "  mysterious  man 
on  a  horse,"  whom  the  coroner  could  never 
find. 

About  a  year  afterwards  I  received  the  fol 
lowing  letter  (which  is  observed  to  be  in  fair 
English)  from  Stockholm,  Sweden : 

"  DEAR  SIR, — For  some  years  I  have  been 
reading  your  remarkable  psychological  studies 
with  great  interest,  and  I  take  the  liberty  to 
suggest  a  theme  for  your  able  pen.  I  have 
just  found  in  a  library  here  a  newspaper,  dated 
about  a  year  ago,  in  which  is  an  account  of 
the  mysterious  death  of  a  military  officer  in  a 
hack." 

Then   followed  the  particulars,   as  I    have 
already  detailed  them,  and  the  very  theme  of 
post-mortem  revenge  which  I  have  adopted  in 
253 


AN   ORIGINAL   REVENGE 

this  setting  out  of  fa&s.  Some  persons  may 
regard  the  coincidence  between  my  corre 
spondent's  suggestion  and  my  private  and  ex 
clusive  knowledge  as  being  a  very  remarkable 
thing  ;  but  there  are  likely  even  more  wonder 
ful  things  in  the  world,  and  at  none  of  them 
do  I  longer  marvel.  More  extraordinary  still 
is  his  suggestion  that  in  the  dynamite  explosion 
a  dog  or  a  quarter  of  beef  might  as  well  have 
been  employed  as  a  suicide-minded  man  ;  that, 
in  short,  the  man  may  not  have  killed  himself 
at  all,  but  might  have  employed  a  presumption 
of  such  an  occurrence  to  render  more  effective 
a  physical  persecution  ending  in  murder  by 
the  living  man  who  had  posed  as  a  spirit.  The 
letter  even  suggested  an  arrangement  with  a 
spirit  medium,  and  I  regard  that  also  as  a  queer 
thing. 

The  declared  purpose  of  this  letter  was  to 
suggest  material  for  another  of  my  "  psycho 
logical  studies  ;"  but  I  submit  that  the  whole 
affair  is  of  too  grave  a  character  for  treatment 
in  the  levity  of  ficlion.  And  if  the  fails  and 
coincidences  should  prove  less  puzzling  to 
others  than  to  me,  a  praiseworthy  service 
might  be  done  to  humanity  by  the  presenta 
tion  of  whatever  solution  a  better  understand 
ing  than  mine  might  evolve. 
254 


AN   ORIGINAL   REVENGE 

The  only  remaining  disclosure  which  I  am 
prepared  now  to  make  is  that  my  correspondent 
signed  himself  "  Ramtarg," — an  odd-sounding 
name,  but  for  all  I  know  it  may  be  respectable 
in  Sweden.  And  yet  there  is  something  about 
the  name  that  haunts  me  unceasingly,  much  as 
does  some  strange  dream  which  we  know  we 
have  dreamt  and  yet  which  it  is  impossible  to 
remember. 


255 


Two  Singular  Men 


THE  first  of  these  was  a  powerful  Italian, 
topped  with  a  dense  brush  of  rebellious 
black  hair.  The  circumstances  leading  up  to 
his  employment  in  the  Great  Oriental  Dime 
Museum  as  the  "  Marvellous  Tuft-nosed  Wild 
Man,  Hoolagaloo,  captured  on  the  Island  of 
Milo,  in  the  JEgean  Sea,  after  a  desperate 
struggle,"  were  these  : 

He  had  been  a  wood-chopper,  possessed 
of  prodigious  strength  and  a  violent  temper. 
One  day  he  and  a  companion  in  the  moun 
tains  fell  out  and  fought.  The  Italian  then 
had  to  walk  twenty  miles  to  find  a  surgeon, 
being  in  great  need  of  his  services.  When  he 
presented  himself  to  the  surgeon  his  face  was 
heavily  bandaged  with  blood-soaked  cloths. 
He  began  to  fumble  in  his  pockets,  and  his 
face  betrayed  deep  anxiety  when  he  failed  to 
find  what  he  sought. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?"  asked  the  surgeon, 
"  and  what  are  you  seeking  r" 

The    man    uncovered    his    mouth    and    in 


TWO   SINGULAR   MEN 

a  voice  like  the  sound  of  an  ophicleide,  an 
swered  : 

"  Mina  nosa." 

"  Your  nose !" 

"Aha.  T'ought  I  bring  'im,  butta  no 
find." 

"  Brought  your  nose  in  your  pocket !" 

"  Dunno — may  be  losta.  Fella  fighta  me  ; 
cut  offa  da  nose." 

The  surgeon  assured  him  that  the  severed 
nose  would  have  been  useless. 

"  But  I  wanta  da  nose  !"  exclaimed  the  man, 
in  despair. 

The  surgeon  said  that  he  could  make  a  new 
one,  and  the  man  appeared  greatly  relieved  in 
mind.  A  removal  of  the  bandages  disclosed 
the  fact  that  a  considerable  part  of  the  nose 
was  gone.  The  surgeon  then  proceeded  to 
perform  the  familiar  rhinoplastic  operation, 
which  consists  in  making  a  V-shaped  incision 
through  the  skin  of  the  forehead  immediately 
above  the  nose,  loosening  it,  and  bringing  it 
down  with  a  half-turn,  to  keep  the  cuticle  out 
ward,  and  covering  the  nose-stump  with  it. 
In  preparing  for  this  he  made  an  interesting 
discovery.  The  place  for  the  man's  nose  was 
long  and  his  forehead  low,  so  that  in  order  to 
secure  sufficient  length  for  the  flap  he  had  to 
17  257 


TWO   SINGULAR    MEN 

encroach  on  the  hair-covered  scalp.  There 
was  no  help  for  it.  With  some  misgivings 
the  surgeon  shaved  the  hair  and  then  per 
formed  the  operation  with  admirable  success. 

His  fears,  however,  in  time  were  realized. 
All  around  the  end  of  the  nose  there  appeared 
a  broad  line  of  black  hair.  When  the  skin 
was  in  its  normal  position  above  the  forehead 
the  hair  on  the  upper  edge  of  it  had  grown 
downward ;  but  as  the  skin  was  inverted  in  its 
new  position  the  hair,  of  course,  grew  upward, 
curving  towards  the  eyes.  It  gave  the  man 
a  grotesque  and  hideous  appearance,  and  this 
made  him  furious.  The  surgeon,  having  a 
quick  wit  and  a  regard  for  the  integrity  of  his 
bones,  introduced  him  to  Signer  Castellani, 
proprietor  of  the  Great  Oriental  Dime  Mu 
seum,  and  that  enterprising  worthy  immedi 
ately  engaged  him.  And  thus  it  was  that  the 
man  became  the  greatest  curiosity  in  the  world. 

Among  his  companions  in  the  museum  were 
the  Severed  Lady,  who  apparently  was  non 
existent  below  the  waist ;  the  Remarkable  Tat 
tooed  Lady,  who  had  been  rescued  from  Chinese 
pirates  in  the  Coral  Sea,  and  some  others.  To 
them  the  tuft-nosed  man  was  known  as  Bat — 
surmised  to  be  a  contraction  of  Bartolommeo. 

The  other  singular  man  with  which  this 
258 


TWO   SINGULAR   MEN 

narrative  is  concerned  was  a  small,  delicate, 
mild-mannered,  impecunious  fellow,  who  made 
a  living  by  writing  for  the  press.  He  and 
Castellani  were  friends,  and  he  was  on  excel 
lent  terms  with  the  "  freaks."  But  as  this 
narrative  is  to  tell  the  little  secrets  of  the  mu 
seum,  it  should  be  explained  that  the  real 
objeft  of  the  young  man's  deepest  admiration 
was  Mademoiselle  Zoe,  the  Severed  Lady,  billed 
also  as  the  Wonderful  French  Phenomenon. 
She  was  known  in  private  life  as  Muggie 
(formerly  Muggy,  and  probably  originally 
Margaret),  and  she  was  the  only  daughter  and 
special  pride  of  Castellani.  Zoe  was  rosy- 
cheeked,  pretty,  and  had  a  freckled  nose.  The 
impecunious  writer  was  named  Sampey.  Sam- 
pey  secretly  loved  Zoe. 

As  the  Severed  Lady,  Mademoiselle  Zoe's 
professional  duties  were  monotonous.  They 
gave  her  abundant  opportunities  for  observa 
tion  and  refle&ion,  and,  being  young  and  of 
the  feminine  sex,  she  dreamed. 

What  she  observed  most  was  eyes.  These 
were  the  eyes  that  looked  at  her  as  she  rested 
in  her  little  swing  when  on  exhibition.  Her 
gilt  booth  was  very  popular,  for  she  was 
pretty,  and  some  kind-hearted  visitors  at  the 
show  pitied  the  poor  thing  because  she  ended 
259 


TWO   SINGULAR    MEN 

at  the  waist !  But  far  from  being  depressed 
by  the  apparent  absence  of  all  below  the  lower 
edge  of  her  gold  belt  with  its  glittering 
diamond  buckle,  she  was  cheerful,  and  now 
and  then  would  sing  a  little  song.  Her  sweet 
ness  of  manner  and  voice  and  the  plumpness 
of  her  rounded  arms  and  shoulders  were  what 
had  won  Sampey's  heart  and  made  him  all  the 
more  zealous  in  his  useful  occupation  of  devis 
ing  the  names  which  Castellani  bestowed  on 
his  freaks. 

Hoolagaloo  had  suffered  a  turning  of  the 
head  by  his  good  fortune.  He  imagined  that 
because  he  was  monstrous  he  was  great.  That 
made  him  arrogant  and  presumptuous.  He, 
too,  loved  Zoe.  Thus  it  came  about  that  a 
rivalry  was  established  between  Sampey  and 
the  Wild  Man  of  Milo.  How  was  it  with 
Zoe  ?  Which  loved  she  ? — or  loved  she 
either  ?  Observing  and  reflecting,  she  dreamed. 
As  it  was  eyes  only  that  she  saw,  it  was  of 
eyes  only  that  she  dreamed. 

"Ah,"  sighed  this  innocent  girl,  "that  I 
could  see  in  reality  the  eyes  of  my  dreams  ! 
So  many,  many  eyes  stare  at  me  in  my  booth, 
and  yet  the  eyes  of  my  dreams  come  not ! 
Blue  eyes,  brown  eyes,  black  eyes,  hazel  eyes, 
gray  eyes,  all  of  every  shade,  but  not  yet  have 
260 


TWO   SINGULAR    MEN 

come  the  eyes  I  so  long  to  see !  Those  which 
do  come  are  commonplace  ;  their  owners  are 
commonplace — just  ordinary  mortals.  I'm 
sure  that  princes,  knights,  and  heroes  must 
have  the  eyes  that  beam  on  me  as  I  sleep. 
I'm  sure,  indeed,  that  such  eyes  will  come  in 
time,  and  that  by  such  a  sign  I  shall  know  my 
hero,  my  master,  my  love !" 

She  cautiously  asked  the  Wild  Man  of  Milo 
about  it  one  day,  but  his  answer  was  a  coarse 
guffaw  ;  then,  seeing  that  he  had  made  a  mis 
take,  he  kissed  her.  The  hair  of  his  tufted 
nose  thus  got  into  her  pretty  blue  eyes,  and 
she  shuddered. 

Then  she  went  to  Sampey,  who  was  wise, 
cool,  and  politic.  He  listened,  amazed,  but 
attentive.  The  opportunity  of  his  life  had 
come.  When  he  had  gathered  up  his  dis 
mayed  and  scattered  wits,  he  gravely  answered : 

"  Muggie,  these  eyes  that  appear  in  your 
dreams — is  it  a  particular  color  or  a  certain 
expression  which  they  have  ?" 

"  Color,"  she  answered. 

«  What  color  ?" 

"  A  soft,  pale,  limpid  amber." 

She  said  it  so  innocently,  so  earnestly,  so 
sweetly,  that  he  could  doubt  neither  her  sin 
cerity  nor  her  sanity.  Thus  the  crisis  had 
261 


TWO   SINGULAR   MEN 

fallen  upon  him  and  had  nearly  crushed 
him. 

Nevertheless,  he  set  his  wits  at  work.  Pon 
dering,  analyzing,  ransacking  every  nook  in  the 
warehouse  of  his  mental  resources,  he  fought 
bravely  with  despair.  Presently  a  bright  ray 
of  intelligence,  descended  Heaven  knows 
whence,  swept  across  his  thought-pinched 
face.  This  bright  beam,  growing  more  and 
more  effulgent,  mounting  higher  and  higher 
till  it  illuminated  all  his  faculties,  finally  lighted 
up  his  way  to  become  one  of  the  two  singular 
men  of  this  narrative. 

•'  I  see,"  he  said,  trying  to  veil  the  glow 
of  triumph  in  his  face,  "  that  you  have  not 
wholly  mastered  the  problem  of  the  eyes. 
True,  it  is  only  heroes  that  have  amber  eyes. 
But  such  eyes  are  a  badge  of  heroism  sent  by 
heaven  ;  and,  though  a  man  may  not  have  been 
heroic  in  any  outward  sense,  when  the  essence 
of  true  heroism  is  breathed  into  him  his  eyes, 
without  his  knowledge  of  the  facl:,  may  assume 
the  amber  hue  of  your  dreams.  Sometimes, 
in  the  development  of  the  spirit  of  heroism, 
this  color  is  only  transient ;  in  time  it  may 
become  permanent.  Muggie,  these  dreams 
indicate  your  destiny.  You  should  marry 
none  but  a  hero,  and  when  he  comes  you  will 
262 


TWO   SINGULAR   MEN 

know  him  by  his  amber  eyes."  With  this 
Sampey  sighed,  for  Muggie  was  looking  ear 
nestly  into  his  gray  eyes. 

Had  he  thus,  in  blind  self-sacrifice  to  the 
whim  of  a  foolish  girl,  cast  himself  into  a  pit  ? 
If  so,  what  meant  his  light  step  and  cheerful 
smile  as  soon  as  she  was  out  of  sight  ? 

Mademoiselle  Zoe,  the  Severed  Lady,  swung 
in  half-person  and  sang  her  little  song  on  a 
night  a  week  or  two  afterwards,  just  as  she 
had  sung  and  swung  many  a  night  before. 
Wondering  eyes  of  every  kind  were  staring  at 
her,  and  presently  her  foolish  little  heart  gave 
a  great  bound.  There  before  her,  regarding 
her  with  infinite  tenderness,  was  a  divine  pair 
of  soft,  pale,  limpid  amber  eyes !  (A  woman 
in  the  audience  happened  also  to  see  this  ex 
traordinary  spectacle,  and  it  frightened  her  so 
badly  that  she  fainted,  thinking  she  had  seen  a 
corpse.) 

The  amber  eyes  instantly  disappeared,  along 
with  their  owner,  one  Sampey.  A  thumpy 
little  heart  in  a  round,  plump  body  knew  that 
it  was  he ;  knew,  therefore,  that  her  destiny 
was  come,  and,  most  extraordinary  of  all,  in 
the  shape  of  her  good  father's  literary  bureau  ! 
Yet  what  shock  there  was  next  day,  when  the 
hero  of  her  dreams  came  to  her  with  his 
263 


TWO   SINGULAR    MEN 

ordinary  pale-gray  eyes,  blurred  somewhat  and 
inclined  to  humidity  ! 

"  Sampey  !"  she  exclaimed  in  dismay,  tum 
bled  thus  rudely  from  the  clouds. 

"Muggie!" 

"  Your  eyes  last  night — then  you  were  a 
hero  ;  but  to-day " 

"  A  hero  !"  innocently  echoed  Sampey. 

"  Why,  yes !  Last  night  you  had  amber 
eyes — such  beautiful  eyes — the  hero-eyes  of 
my  dreams !" 

"  My  dear  child,  you  certainly  were  dream 
ing." 

"  Oh,  no  !  I  saw  them  !  My  heart  jumped 
so  !  I  knew  you — I  knew  you — and  your 
eyes  were  amber !" 

Sampey  smiled  sadly  and  a  little  compla 
cently,  and  with  great  modesty  said  : 

"  I  can't  doubt  you,  my  dear  child,  but  I 
assure  you  that  1  was  unconscious  of  my  amber 
eyes.  I  wish  that  I  could  feel  at  liberty  to 
confess  to  you  that  lately  I  have  had  strange 
whisperings  of  heroism  in  my  soul  —but  that 
would  be  boasting,  and  true  heroism  is  always 
modest.  Still,  I  ought  not  to  be  surprised 
that  you  discovered  the  aftual  presence  before 
I  was  aware  even  of  its  existence ;  but  such, 
indeed,  my  dear,  is  the  peculiarity  of  the  true 
264 


TWO   SINGULAR    MEN 

hero — he  is  ever  unaware  of  his  own  hero 
ism."  He  took  her  hand  languishingly  and 
squeezed  it.  She  blushed  and  fled. 

Signor  Castellani,  besides  being  wealthy, 
was  a  man  of  business.  His  daughter  should 
marry  a  man  who  had  money  sufficient  to 
insure  his  worth.  With  perspicacity  rare  in 
a  man,  he  had  observed  that  the  two  singular 
men  of  this  narrative  admired  his  daughter. 
Now,  Bat,  being  a  freak,  was  making  money 
rapidly,  while  Sampey  was  only  a  poor  literary 
bureau  !  Castellani  felt  the  need  of  a  partner. 
Why  should  not  a  partner  be  a  son-in-law  ? 
Surely  Bat  was  much  more  desirable  than  Sam 
pey  ! 

Sampey  was  wise  and  Bat  was  foolish.  On 
the  other  hand,  Bat  was  courageous  and  Sam 
pey  was  timid.  Bat  had  the  courage  of  a 
brute.  Sampey  knew  that  there  were  certain 
ways  of  frightening  brave  brutes — he  had  even 
seen  a  prize-fighter  join  a  church.  He  pre 
pared  for  Bat. 

One  day  he  entered  the  museum  between 
exhibitions  and  sought  the  Wild  Man  of  Milo. 
That  worthy  was  leisurely  smoking  a  cigarette 
in  a  quiet  corner,  and  was  making  the  smoke 
curl  up  gracefully  over  the  hairy  tuft  on  his 
nose.  Sampey  was  paler  than  usual  and  a 
265 


TWO   SINGULAR    MEN 

little  nervous,  for  the  business  of  his  visit  was 
tinged  with  hazard.  Bat,  who  happened  to 
feel  good-natured,  gave  the  first  greeting. 

"  Hey  !"  he  called  out. 

Sampey  went  straight  to  him. 

"  You  lika  da  show,  ha,  Samp  ?  You  come 
effery  day.  Gooda  place,  ha,  Samp  ?" 

"  A  very  good  place,  Bat,"  quietly  answered 
Sampey,  who  tried  hard  to  appear  indifferent 
as  he  fumbled  nervously  in  his  pocket. 

"  Signor  Castellani,  he  biga  mon,  reecha 
mon,  gooda  mon.  You  like  'im  ?" 

"Very  much."  Sampey  was  afting  strangely. 

Bat's  eyes  twinkled  a  little  dangerously. 

"  You  lika  da  gal,  too,  ha,  Samp  ?" 

"  The — ah — the  tattooed  woman  ?  Yes, 
very  well,  indeed." 

"  Ha,  you  sly  Samp  !  I  spik  about  da 
leetle  ploompa  gal — da  Mug." 

"  Oh  !     Muggie  ?     Castellani's  daughter  ?" 

"Ha." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  her  so  very  well." 

"  You  don'  know  da  Mugga  ?"  Bat's  look 
was  becoming  dangerously  fierce.  He  straight 
ened  himself  up  from  his  lounging  posture, 
and  his  big  muscles  swelled.  "  You  don* 
know  da  Mugga !  You  tink  I  no  see.  You 
loafa  da  Mugga  !  You  wanta  marry  her  !  You 
266 


TWO   SINGULAR   MEN 

tink  'er  reecha,  pooty.  You  miseraba  sneaka  !" 
Here  Bat,  who  had  worked  himself  into  a  fury, 
swore  an  eloquent  Italian  oath. 

Sampey's  time  had  come.  The  two  men 
were  alone, — Bat  furious  and  desperate  with 
jealousy ;  Sampey  fearful,  but  determined ; 
brutality  against  wit,  strength  against  cunning, 
fury  against  patience,  a  bulldog  matched  with 
a  mink,  a  game-cock  pitted  against  an  owl. 

Sampey  pretended  to  have  dropped  some 
thing  accidentally.  He  stooped  to  pick  it  up, 
and  some  seconds  elapsed  before  he  pretended 
to  have  found  it.  While  he  was  searching  for 
it  he  approached  nearer  to  Bat,  and  when  he 
straightened  up  he  brought  his  face  very  close 
to  Bat's,  and  suddenly  raised  his  eyes  and 
stared  steadily  into  those  of  the  Wild  Man  of 
Milo. 

Bat  meanwhile  had  kept  up  an  insulting 
tirade,  his  evident  purpose  being  to  force  the 
gentle  writer  into  a  fight.  But  when  Sampey 
raised  his  eyes  and  fixed  them  in  a  peculiar 
stare,  Bat  regarded  him  a  moment  in  speech 
less  wonder,  and  then  sprang  back  with  a  livid 
face,  and  in  terror  cried  out : 

"  Santa  Maria  !" 

For  half  a  minute  he  gazed,  horrified,  at  the 
sight  which  confronted  him,  his  mouth  open, 
267 


TWO   SINGULAR    MEN 

his  eyes  staring — fascinated,  terror-stricken, 
and  aghast.  Sampey,  the  gentle,  usually  dove- 
eyed,  was  now  transformed.  Those  were  not 
the  accustomed  gray  eyes  with  which  Bat  was 
familiar,  nor  yet  the  limpid,  amber  eyes  which 
had  set  poor  Zoe's  heart  bounding ;  Sampey 
gazed  upon  his  viftim  with  eyes  that  were  a 
fierce  and  insurrectionary  scarlet ! 

Bat,  contumelious  now  no  longer,  dashed 
wildly  away.  He  spread  his  wonderful  tale. 
Castellani,  whom  it  finally  reached,  frowned, 
thinking  that  Bat  was  drunk.  The  Tattooed 
Lady  laughed  outright.  Zoe  wondered  and 
was  troubled ;  but  that  night,  just  before  the 
curtain  of  her  gilt  booth  was  drawn  at  the 
close  of  the  exhibition,  there  stood  her  hero 
Sampey,  gazing  tenderly  at  her  with  eyes  of  a 
soft,  pale,  limpid  amber.  And  she  slept 
soundly  after  that. 

When  Sampey  visited  the  museum  next  day, 
he  was  eyed  with  considerable  curiosity  by  the 
freaks.  Castellani  asked  him  diredtly  what 
Bat  meant  by  his  stories.  Sampey  had  ex- 
pefled  this  question,  and  was  ready  for  it. 
After  binding  the  showman  to  everlasting 
secrecy,  he  said : 

"  I  have  made  a  great  discovery,  but  it  is 
impossible  for  me  to  go  into  all  its  details.  It 
268 


TWO   SINGULAR   MEN 

must  be  sufficient  at  present  for  me  to  say  that 
after  many  years  of  scientific  experiment  I 
have  learned  the  secret  of  changing  the  color 
of  my  eyes  at  will." 

He  said  this  very  simply,  as  though  uncon 
scious  of  announcing  one  of  the  most  extraor 
dinary  things  to  which  the  ages  have  given 
birth. 

But  Castellani  was  a  study.  Some  great 
shock,  resembling  apoplexy,  seemed  to  have 
invaded  his  system.  Being  a  shrewd  business 
man,  he  presently  recovered  his  composure, 
and  then  in  the  most  indifferent  manner  re 
marked  that  a  person  who  could  change  the 
color  of  his  eyes  at  will  ought  to  be  able,  per 
haps,  if  he  should  get  started  right,  to  make  a 
little  money,  possibly,  out  of  the  accomplish 
ment  ;  and  then  he  offered  Sampey  forty  dol 
lars  a  week  to  pose  as  a  freak  in  the  Great 
Oriental  Dime  Museum.  Sampey,  who  knew 
that  the  Wild  Man  of  Milo's  salary  was  two 
hundred  dollars  a  week  (which,  although  large, 
was  well  earned,  seeing  that  everybody  had  to 
pull  the  tuft  on  his  nose  to  be  sure  that  it  grew 
there),  asked  time  to  consider  the  splendid 
offer,  which  to  him  was  a  fortune. 

There  was  the  certainty  of  losing  Zoe  when 
she  should  learn  that  his  amber  eyes  were  not 
269 


TWO   SINGULAR    MEN 

really  heroic.  He  went  to  a  retired  showman 
and  asked  him  what  salaries  might  be  com 
manded  by  a  man  with  a  hair-tufted  nose  and 
a  man  who  could  change  the  color  of  his  eyes 
to  any  other  color  at  will.  This  showman 
answered  : 

"  I've  seen  Castellani's  man  with  the  tuft. 
He  gets  two  hundred  dollars  a  week.  That  is 
pretty  high.  If  you  can  bring  me  a  man  who 
can  change  the  color  of  his  eyes  at  will  to  any 
other  color,  I  will  pay  him  a  thousand  dollars 
a  week  and  start  in  the  business  again." 

Sampey  slept  not  a  wink  that  night. 

Meanwhile  a  change  had  taken  place  in 
Zoe  :  she  had  suddenly  become  more  charm 
ing  than  ever.  Her  gentleness  and  sweetness 
had  become  conspicuously  augmented,  and  she 
was  so  kind  and  sweet-mannered  to  all,  in 
cluding  the  Wild  Man  of  Milo  (whom  she 
had  formerly  avoided  through  instinctive  fear), 
that  Bat  took  greater  heart  and  swore  to  win 
her,  though  he  might  have  to  wade  through 
oceans  of  Sampey  blood.  Mark  this  :  Stake 
not  too  much  on  a  woman's  condescension 
to  you;  it  may  come  through  love  for  an 
other. 

Zoe  was  innocent,  honest,  and  confiding. 
Innocence  measures  the  strength  of  faith. 
270 


TWO   SINGULAR    MEN 

The  charm  of  faith  is  its  absurdity.  Zoe 
believed  in  Sampey. 

Sampey,  grown  surprisingly  bold  and  self- 
reliant,  named  his  terms  to  Castellani — a  half- 
interest  in  the  business — and  Castellani,  swear 
and  bully  and  bluster  as  he  might,  must  accept. 
This  made  Sampey  a  rich  man  at  once.  Cas 
tellani,  exceedingly  gracious  and  friendly  after 
the  signing  of  the  compaft,  proposed  a  quiet 
supper  in  his  private  apartments  in  celebration 
of  the  new  arrangement,  and  presently  he  and 
Zoe  and  Sampey  were  enjoying  a  very  choice 
meal.  Zoe  was  dazzlingly  radiant  and  pretty, 
but  a  certain  strange  constraint  sat  between  her 
and  Sampey.  Once,  when  she  dropped  her 
napkin  and  Sampey  picked  it  up,  his  hand 
accidentally  touched  one  of  her  daintily  slip 
pered  feet,  and  his  blushes  were  painful  to 
see. 

While  they  were  thus  engaged,  Bat,  without 
ceremony,  burst  in  upon  them,  his  face  aglow 
and  his  eyes  flashing  triumph.  He  carried  in 
his  hand  a  small  box,  which  he  rudely  thrust 
under  their  noses.  When  Sampey  saw  it  he 
turned  deathly  pale  and  shrank  back,  power 
less  to  move  or  speak. 

"  I  ketcha  da  scound  !"  exclaimed  Bat,  shak 
ing  his  finger  in  the  cowering  Sampey's  face. 
271 


TWO   SINGULAR    MEN 

"  I  watch  'im  ;  I  ketcha  da  scound  !  He  play 
you  da  dirtee  tr-r-icks !" 

The  Wild  Man  of  Milo  placed  the  box  on 
the  table  and  raised  the  lid.  Within  appeared 
a  number  of  curious,  small,  cup-shaped  trinkets 
of  opaque  white  glass,  each  marked  in  the 
centre  with  an  annular  band  of  color  surround 
ing  a  centre  of  clear  glass,  the  range  of  colors 
being  great,  and  the  trinkets  arranged  in  pairs 
according  to  color.  There  were  also  a  vial 
labelled  "cocaine"  and  a  small  camel's-hair 
brush. 

"  You  looka  me,"  resumed  Hoolagaloo, 
greatly  excited.  "  I  maka  mine  eye  changa 
colah,  lika  da  scounda  Samp." 

With  that  he  dipped  the  brush  into  the  vial 
and  applied  it  to  his  eyes.  Then  he  picked 
up  two  of  the  curious  little  glass  cups,  and 
slipped  them,  one  at  a  time,  over  his  eyeballs 
and  under  his  eyelids,  where  they  fitted  snugly. 
They  were  artificial  eyes  which  Sampey  had 
had  made  to  cover  his  natural  eyeballs  on  occa 
sion.  Bat  struck  a  mock-tragic  attitude  and 
hissed  : 

"Diavolo!" 

By  a  strange  accident  he  had  picked  out  two 
which  were  not  mates.  One  of  his  eyes  was 
a  soft,  pale,  limpid  amber  and  the  other  a  fierce 
272 


TWO   SINGULAR    MEN 

and  insurrectionary  red.  These,  with  his 
tufted  nose  and  his  tragic  attitude,  gave  him 
an  appearance  so  grotesque  and  hideous  that 
Zoe,  after  springing  to  her  feet  and  throwing 
her  arms  wildly  aloft,  fell  in  a  dead  faint  into 
Sampey's  arms. 

Bat  gloated  over  his  rival ;  Castellani  was 
dumfounded.  Presently  Sampey's  nerve  re 
turned  with  his  wits. 

"  Well/'  he  remarked,  contemptuously, 
drawing  Zoe  closer  and  holding  her  with  a 
tender  solicitude — "well,  what  of  it  ?" 

His  insolence  enraged  Hoolagaloo.  "  H — 
hwat  of  eet !  Santa  Maria !  Da  scound ! 
Ha,  ha  !  Da  gal  no  marry  you  now  !" 

Sampey  deliberately  moved  Zoe  so  that  he 
might  reach  his  watch,  and  after  looking  calmly 
at  it  a  moment  he  said : 

"  Muggie  and  I  have  been  married  just  thirty 
hours." 

The  announcement  stunned  the  Wild  Man. 
Castellani  himself  had  a  hard  mental  struggle 
to  realize  the  situation,  and  then,  with  his 
accustomed  equanimity  and  his  old-time  air 
of  authority,  he  said  : 

"  Well,  phat  is  oil  the  row  aboot,  anny- 
how  ?  D'ye  want  to  shpile  th'  mon's  thrick, 
Misther  Bat?  An'  thin,  Misther  Bat,  it's  a 
««  273 


TWO   SINGULAR    MEN 

domned  gude  wan,  it  is ;  an'  more'n  thot, 
me  gintlemanly  son-in-law  is  me  partner,  too, 
Misther  Bat,  I'd  have  ye  know,  an'  he's  got 
aut'ority  in  this  show." 

That  finished  the  Wild  Man  of  Milo.  He 
staggered  out,  shaved  his  nose,  bought  an  axe, 
and  fled  to  the  mountains  to  chop  wood  again, 
leaving  the  Mysterious  Man  with  the  Speftre 
Eyes  to  become  the  happiest  husband  and  ^ie 
most  prosperous  freak  and  showman  in  the 
world. 


274 


The  Faithful  Amulet 


A  QUAINT  old  rogue,  who  called  him 
self  Rabaya,  the  Mystic,  was  one  of 
the  many  extraordinary  characters  of  that  odd 
corner  of  San  Francisco  known  as  the  Latin 
Quarter.  His  business  was  the  selling  of 
charms  and  amulets,  and  his  generally  harm 
less  practices  received  an  impressive  aspect 
from  his  Hindu  parentage,  his  great  age,  his 
small,  wizened  frame,  his  deeply  wrinkled 
face,  his  outlandish  dress,  and  the  barbaric 
fittings  of  his  den. 

One  of  his  most  constant  customers  was 
James  Freeman,  the  half-piratical  owner  and 
skipper  of  the  "  Blue  Crane."  This  queer 
little  barkentine,  of  light  tonnage  but  wonder 
ful  sailing  qualities,  is  remembered  in  every 
port  between  Sitka  and  Callao.  All  sorts  of 
strange  stories  are  told  of  her  exploits,  but 
these  mostly  were  manufactured  by  supersti 
tious  and  highly  imaginative  sailors,  who  com 
monly  demonstrate  the  natural  affinity  existing 
275 


THE   FAITHFUL   AMULET 

between  idleness  and  lying.  It  has  been  said 
not  only  that  she  engaged  in  smuggling,  piracy, 
and  "  blackbirding"  (which  is  kidnapping  Gil 
bert  Islanders  and  selling  them  to  the  coffee- 
planters  of  Central  America),  but  that  she 
maintained  special  relations  with  Satan,  founded 
on  the  power  of  mysterious  charms  which  her 
skipper  was  supposed  to  have  procured  from 
some  mysterious  source  and  was  known  to 
employ  on  occasion.  Beyond  the  information 
which  his  manifests  and  clearance  papers  di 
vulged,  nothing  of  his  supposed  shady  opera 
tions  could  be  learned  either  from  him  or  his 
crew  ;  for  his  sailors,  like  him,  were  a  strangely 
silent  lot — all  sharp,  keen-eyed  young  fellows 
who  never  drank  and  who  kept  to  themselves 
when  in  port.  An  uncommon  circumstance 
was  that  there  were  never  any  vacancies  in  the 
crew,  except  one  that  happened  as  the  result 
of  Freeman's  last  visit  to  Rabaya,  and  it  came 
about  in  the  following  remarkable  manner : 

Freeman,  like  most  other  men  who  follow 
the  sea,  was  superstitious,  and  he  ascribed  his 
fair  luck  to  the  charms  which  he  secretly  pro 
cured  from  Rabaya.  It  is  now  known  that  he 
visited  the  mystic  whenever  he  came  to  thefc 
port  of  San  Francisco,  and  there  are  some  to 
day  who  believe  that  Rabaya  had  an  interest 
276 


THE   FAITHFUL   AMULET 

in  the  supposed  buccaneering  enterprises  of 
the  "  Blue  Crane." 

Among  the  most  intelligent  and  aftive  of 
the  "  Blue  Crane's"  crew  was  a  Malay  known 
to  his  mates  as  the  Flying  Devil.  This  had 
come  to  him  by  reason  of  his  extraordinary 
agility.  No  monkey  could  have  been  more 
aftive  than  he  in  the  rigging  ;  he  could  make 
flying  leaps  with  astonishing  ease.  He  could 
not  have  been  more  than  twenty-five  years 
old,  but  he  had  the  shrivelled  appearance  of 
an  old  man,  and  was  small  and  lean.  His  face 
was  smooth-shaved  and  wrinkled,  his  eyes 
deep-set  and  intensely  black  and  brilliant. 
His  mouth  was  his  most  forbidding  feature. 
It  was  large,  and  the  thin  lips  were  drawn 
tightly  over  large  and  protruding  teeth,  its 
aspect  being  prognathous  and  menacing.  Al 
though  quiet  and  not  given  to  laughter,  at 
times  he  would  smile,  and  then  the  expression 
of  his  face  was  such  as  to  give  even  Freeman  a 
sensation  of  impending  danger. 

It  was  never  clearly  known  what  was  the 
real  mission  of  the  "  Blue  Crane"  when  she 
sailed  the  last  time  from  San  Francisco.  Some 
supposed  that  she  intended  to  loot  a  sunken 
vessel  of  her  treasure ;  others  that  the  enter 
prise  was  one  of  simple  piracy,  involving  the 
277 


THE   FAITHFUL   AMULET 

killing  of  the  crew  and  the  scuttling  of  the 
ship  in  mid-ocean  ;  others  that  a  certain  large 
consignment  of  opium,  for  which  the  customs 
authorities  were  on  the  lookout,  was  likely 
about  to  be  smuggled  into  some  port  of  Puget 
Sound.  In  any  event,  the  business  ahead 
must  have  been  important,  for  it  is  now  known 
that  in  order  to  ensure  its  success  Freeman 
bought  an  uncommonly  expensive  and  potent 
charm  from  Rabaya. 

When  Freeman  went  to  buy  this  charm  he 
failed  to  notice  that  the  Flying  Devil  was 
slyly  following  him ;  neither  he  nor  the  half- 
blind  charm-seller  observed  the  Malay  slip 
into  Rabaya's  den  and  witness  the  matter  that 
there  went  forward.  The  intruder  must  have 
heard  something  that  stirred  every  evil  instindl 
in  him.  Rabaya  (whom  I  could  hardly  be 
persuaded  to  believe  under  oath)  years  after 
wards  told  me  that  the  charm  which  he  sold 
to  Freeman  was  one  of  extraordinary  virtue. 
For  many  generations  it  had  been  in  the  family 
of  one  of  India's  proudest  rajahs,  and  until  it 
was  stolen  the  arms  of  England  could  not  pre 
vail  over  that  part  of  the  far  East.  If  borne 
by  a  person  of  lofty  character  (as  he  solemnly 
informed  me  he  believed  Freeman  to  be)  it 
would  never  fail  to  bring  the  highest  good 
278 


THE   FAITHFUL   AMULET 

fortune ;  for,  although  the  amulet  was  laden 
with  evil  powers  as  well  as  good,  a  worthy 
person  could  resist  the  evil  and  employ  only 
the  good.  Contrariwise,  the  amulet  in  the 
hands  of  an  evil  person  would  be  a  most  potent 
and  dangerous  engine  of  harm. 

It  was  a  small  and  very  old  trinket,  made 
of  copper  and  representing  a  serpent  twined 
grotesquely  about  a  human  heart ;  through  the 
heart  a  dagger  was  thrust,  and  the  loop  for 
holding  the  suspending  string  was  formed  by 
one  of  the  coils  of  the  snake.  The  charm  had 
a  wonderful  history,  which  must  be  reserved 
for  a  future  story ;  the  sum  of  it  being  that  as 
it  had  been  as  often  in  the  hands  of  bad  men 
as  of  good,  it  had  wrought  as  many  calamities 
as  blessings.  It  was  perfectly  safe  and  useful 
— so  Rabaya  soberly  told  me — in  the  hands  of 
such  a  man  as  Freeman. 

Now,  as  no  one  knows  the  soundings  and 
breadth  of  his  own  wickedness,  the  Flying 
Devil  (who,  Rabaya  explained,  must  have 
overheard  the  conversation  attending  its  trans 
ference  to  Freeman)  reflected  only  that  if  he 
could  secure  possession  of  the  charm  his  for 
tune  would  be  made  ;  as  he  could  not  procure 
it  by  other  means,  he  must  steal  it.  More 
over,  he  must  have  seen  the  price — five  thou- 
279 


THE   FAITHFUL   AMULET 

sand  dollars  in  gold —which  Freeman  paid  for 
the  trinket ;  and  that  alone  was  sufficient  to 
move  the  Malay's  cupidity.  At  all  events,  it 
is  known  that  he  set  himself  to  steal  the  charm 
and  desert  from  the  barkentine. 

From  this  point  on  to  the  catastrophe  my 
information  is  somewhat  hazy.  I  cannot  say, 
for  instance,  just  how  the  theft  was  committed, 
but  it  is  certain  that  Freeman  was  not  aware 
of  it  until  a  considerable  time  had  passed. 
What  did  concern  him  particularly  was  the 
absence  of  the  Malay  when  the  barkentine  was 
weighing  anchor  and  giving  a  line  for  a  tow 
out  to  sea.  The  Malay  was  a  valuable  sailor; 
to  replace  him  adequately  was  clearly  so  im 
possible  a  task  that  Freeman  decided,  after  a 
profitless  and  delaying  search  of  hours,  to 
leave  port  without  him  or  another  in  his 
place.  It  was  with  a  heavy  heart,  somewhat 
lightened  by  a  confident  assumption  that  the 
amulet  was  safe  in  his  possession,  that  Freeman 
headed  down  the  channel  for  the  Golden 
Gate. 

Meanwhile,  the  Flying  Devil  was  having 
strange  adventures.  In  a  hastily  arranged 
disguise,  the  principal  feature  of  which  was  a 
gentleman's  street  dress,  in  which  he  might 
pass  careless  scrutiny  as  a  thrifty  Japanese 
280 


THE   FAITHFUL   AMULET 

awkwardly  trying  to  adapt  himself  to  the  cus 
toms  of  his  environment,  he  emerged  from  a 
water-front  lodging-house  of  the  poorer  sort, 
and  ascended  leisurely  to  the  summit  of  Tele 
graph  Hill,  in  order  to  make  a  careful  survey 
of  the  city  from  that  prominent  height ;  for  it 
was  needful  that  he  know  how  best  to  escape. 
From  that  alluring  eminence  he  saw  not  only 
a  great  part  of  the  city,  but  also  nearly  the 
whole  of  the  bay  of  San  Francisco  and  the 
shores,  towns,  and  mountains  lying  beyond. 
His  first  particular  attention  was  given  to  the 
"  Blue  Crane,"  upon  which  he  looked  nearly 
straight  down  as  she  rolled  gently  at  her 
moorings  at  the  foot  of  Lombard  Street.  Two 
miles  to  the  west  he  saw  the  trees  which  con 
ceal  the  soldiers'  barracks,  and  the  command 
ing  general's  residence  on  the  high  promontory 
known  as  Black  Point,  and  these  invited  him 
to  seek  concealment  in  their  shadows  until  the 
advent  of  night  would  enable  him  to  work  his 
way  down  the  peninsula  of  San  Francisco  to 
the  distant  blue  mountains  of  San  Mateo. 
Surmising  that  Freeman  would  make  a  search 
for  him,  and  that  it  would  be  confined  to  the 
docks  and  their  near  vicinity,  he  imagined 
that  it  would  not  be  a  difficult  matter  to  es 
cape. 

281 


THE   FAITHFUL   AMULET 

After  getting  his  bearings  the  Malay  was  in 
the  adl  of  descending  the  hill  by  its  northern 
flank,  when  he  observed  a  stranger  leaning 
against  the  parapet  crowning  the  hill.  The 
man  seemed  to  be  watching  him.  Not  reflect 
ing  that  his  somewhat  singular  appearance 
might  have  accounted  for  the  scrutiny,  his 
suspicions  were  roused ;  he  feared,  albeit 
wrongly,  that  he  was  followed,  for  the 
stranger  had  come  up  soon  after  him.  As 
suming  an  air  of  indifference,  he  strolled  about 
until  he  was  very  near  the  stranger,  and  then 
with  the  swiftness  and  ferocity  of  a  tiger  he 
sprang  and  slipped  a  knife-blade  between  the 
man's  ribs.  The  stranger  sank  with  a  groan, 
and  the  Malay  fled  down  the  hill. 

It  was  a  curious  circumstance  that  the  man 
fell  in  front  of  one  of  the  openings  which 
negleft  had  permitted  the  rains  to  wash  under 
neath  the  parapet.  He  floundered  as  some 
dying  men  will,  and  these  movements  caused 
him  to  work  his  body  through  the  opening. 
That  done,  he  started  rolling  down  the  steep 
eastern  declivity,  the  speed  of  his  flight  in 
creasing  with  every  bound.  Many  cottages 
are  perched  precariously  on  this  precipitous 
slope.  Mrs.  Armour,  a  resident  of  one  of 
them,  was  sitting  in  a  rear  room  near  the 
282 


THE   FAITHFUL   AMULET 

window,  sewing,  when  she  was  amazed  to  see 
a  man  flying  through  the  sash  close  beside  her. 
He  came  with  so  great  violence  that  he  tore 
through  a  thin  partition  into  an  adjoining  room 
and  landed  in  a  shapeless  heap  against  the 
opposite  wall.  Mrs.  Armour  screamed  for 
help.  A  great  commotion  ensued,  but  it  was 
some  time  before  the  flight  of  the  body  was 
connected  with  a  murder  on  the  parapet. 
Nevertheless,  the  police  were  aftive,  and 
presently  a  dozen  of  them  were  upon  the 
broad  trail  which  the  murderer  had  left  in  his 
flight  down  the  hill. 

In  a  short  time  the  Malay  found  himself  in 
the  lumber-piles  of  the  northern  water-front. 
Thence,  after  gathering  himself  together,  he 
walked  leisurely  westward  in  the  rear  of  the 
wire- works,  and  traversed  a  little  sand-beach 
where  mothers  and  nurses  had  children  out  for 
an  airing.  The  desperate  spirit  of  perversity 
which  possessed  the  man  (and  which  Rabaya 
afterwards  explained  by  the  possession  of  the 
amulet),  made  reckless  by  a  belief  that  the 
charm  which  he  carried  would  preserve  him 
from  all  menaces,  led  him  to  steal  a  small 
hand-satchel  that  lay  on  the  beach  near  a  well- 
dressed  woman.  He  walked  away  with  it, 
and  then  opened  it  and  was  rejoiced  to  find 
283 


THE   FAITHFUL   AMULET 

that  it  contained  some  money  and  fine  jewelry. 
At  this  juncture  one  of  the  children,  who  had 
observed  the  Malay's  theft,  called  the  woman's 
attention  to  him.  She  started  in  pursuit, 
raising  a  loud  outcry,  which  emptied  the  ad 
jacent  drinking-saloons  of  a  pursuing  crowd. 

The  Malay  leaped  forward  with  ample 
ability  to  outstrip  all  his  pursuers,  but  just  as 
he  arrived  in  front  of  a  large  swimming  estab 
lishment  a  bullet  from  a  policeman's  pistol 
brought  him  to  his  knees.  The  crowd  quickly 
pressed  around  him.  The  criminal  staggered 
to  his  feet,  made  a  fierce  dash  at  a  man  who 
stood  in  his  way,  and  sank  a  good  knife  into 
his  body.  Then  he  bounded  away,  fled 
swiftly  past  a  narrow  beach  where  swimming- 
clubs  have  their  houses,  and  disappeared  in  the 
ruins  of  a  large  old  building  that  lay  at  the  foot 
of  a  sandy  bluff  on  the  water's  edge.  He  was 
trailed  a  short  distance  within  the  ruins  by  a 
thin  stream  of  blood  which  he  left,  and  there 
he  was  lost.  It  was  supposed  that  he  had 
escaped  to  the  old  woollen-mill  on  Black 
Point. 

As  in  all  other  cases  where  a  mob  pursues  a 
fleeing  criminal,  the  search  was  wild  and  dis 
orderly,  so  that  if  the  Malay  had  left  any 
trail  beyond  the  ruins  it  would  have  been 
284 


THE   FAITHFUL   AMULET 

obliterated  by  trampling  feet.  Only  one  po 
liceman  was  in  the  crowd,  but  others,  sum 
moned  by  telephone,  were  rapidly  approaching 
from  all  directions.  Unintelligent  and  contra 
dictory  rumors  bewildered  the  police  for  a 
time,  but  they  formed  a  long  picket  line  cover 
ing  an  arc  which  stretched  from  North  Beach 
to  the  new  gas-works  far  beyond  Black  Point. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  Captain  Freeman 
cast  off  and  started  out  to  sea. 

The  summit  of  Black  Point  is  crowned  with 
the  tall  eucalyptus-trees  which  the  Flying 
Devil  had  seen  from  Telegraph  Hill.  A  high 
fence,  which  encloses  the  general's  house,  ex 
tends  along  the  bluff  of  Black  Point,  near  the 
edge.  A  sentry  paced  in  front  of  the  gate  to 
the  grounds,  keeping  out  all  who  had  not  pro 
vided  themselves  with  a  pass.  The  sentry 
had  seen  the  crowd  gathering  towards  the 
east,  and  in  the  distance  he  noticed  the  brass 
buttons  of  the  police  glistening  in  the  west 
ern  sunlight.  He  wondered  what  could  be 
afoot. 

While  he  was  thus  engaged  he  observed  a 
small,  dark,  wiry  man  emerging  upon  the 
bluff  from  the  direction  of  the  woollen-mill  at 
its  eastern  base.  The  stranger  made  straight 
for  the  gate. 

285 


THE   FAITHFUL   AMULET 

"  You  can't  go  in  there,"  said  the  soldier, 
"  unless  you  have  a  pass." 

"  Da  w'at  ?"  asked  the  stranger. 

"  A  pass,"  repeated  the  sentry  ;  and  then, 
seeing  that  the  man  was  a  foreigner  and  im- 
perfeftly  acquainted  with  English,  he  made 
signs  to  explain  his  remark,  still  carrying  his 
bayonet-tipped  rifle  at  shoulder-arms.  The 
stranger,  whose  sharp  gleam  of  eye  gave  the 
soldier  an  odd  sensation,  nodded  and  smiled. 

"  Oh  !"  said  he  ;  "I  have." 

He  thrust  his  hand  into  his  side-pocket,  ad 
vancing  meanwhile,  and  sending  a  swift  glance 
about.  In  the  next  moment  the  soldier  found 
himself  sinking  to  the  ground  with  an  open  jugu 
lar. 

The  Malay  slipped  within  the  grounds  and 
disappeared  in  the  shrubbery.  It  was  nearly 
an  hour  afterwards  that  the  soldier's  body  was 
discovered,  and,  the  crowd  of  police  and  citi 
zens  arriving,  it  became  known  to  the  garrison 
that  the  desperate  criminal  was  immediately  at 
hand.  The  bugle  sounded  and  the  soldiers 
came  tumbling  out  of  barracks.  Then  began 
a  search  of  every  corner  of  the  post. 

It  is  likely  that  a  feeling  of  relief  came  to 
many  a  stout  heart  when  it  was  announced 
that  the  man  had  escaped  by  water,  and  was 
286 


THE   FAITHFUL   AMULET 

now  being  swiftly  carried  down  the  channel 
towards  the  Golden  Gate  by  the  ebb  tide. 
He  was  clearly  seen  in  a  small  boat,  keeping 
such  a  course  as  was  possible  by  means  of  a 
rude  board  in  place  of  oars.  His  escape  had 
occurred  thus  :  Upon  entering  the  grounds  he 
ran  along  the  eastern  fence,  behind  the  shrub 
bery,  to  a  transverse  fence  separating  the  gar 
den  from  the  rear  premises.  He  leaped  the 
fence,  and  then  found  himself  face  to  face 
with  a  large  and  formidable  mastiff.  He 
killed  the  brute  in  a  strange  and  bold  manner 
— by  choking.  There  was  evidence  of  a  long 
and  fearful  struggle  between  man  and  brute. 
The  apparent  reason  for  the  man's  failure  to  use 
the  knife  was  the  first  necessity  of  choking  the 
dog  into  silence  and  the  subsequent  need  of  em 
ploying  both  hands  to  maintain  that  advantage. 
After  disposing  of  the  dog  the  Flying  Devil, 
wounded  though  he  was,  performed  a  feat 
worthy  of  his  sobriquet ;  he  leaped  the  rear 
fence.  At  the  foot  of  the  bluff  he  found  a 
boat  chained  to  a  post  sunk  into  the  sand. 
There  was  no  way  to  release  the  boat  except 
by  digging  up  the  post.  This  the  Malay  did 
with  his  hands  for  tools,  and  then  threw  the 
post  into  the  boat,  and  pushed  off  with  a 
board  that  he  found  on  the  beach.  Then  he 
287 


THE   FAITHFUL   AMULET 

swung  out  into  the  tide,  and  it  was  some  min 
utes  afterwards  that  he  was  discovered  from 
the  fort ;  and  then  he  was  so  far  away,  and 
there  was  so  much  doubt  of  his  identity,  that 
the  gunners  hesitated  for  a  time  to  fire  upon 
him.  Then  two  dramatic  things  occurred. 

Meeting  the  drifting  boat  was  a  heavy  bank 
of  fog  which  was  rolling  in  through  the 
Golden  Gate.  The  murderer  was  heading 
straight  for  it,  paddling  vigorously  with  the 
tide.  If  once  the  fog  should  enfold  him  he 
would  be  lost  in  the  Pacific  or  killed  on  the 
rocks  almost  beyond  a  peradventure,  and  yet 
he  was  heading  for  such  a  fate  with  all  the 
strength  that  he  possessed.  This  was  what 
first  convinced  his  pursuers  that  he  was  the 
man  whom  they  sought — none  other  would 
have  pursued  so  desperate  a  course.  At  the 
same  time  a  marine  glass  brought  convidlion, 
and  the  order  was  given  to  open  fire. 

A  six-pound  brass  cannon  roared,  and 
splinters  flew  from  the  boat ;  but  its  occupant, 
with  tantalizing  bravado,  rose  and  waved  his 
hand  defiantly.  The  six-pounder  then  sent 
out  a  percussion  shell,  and  just  as  the  frail 
boat  was  entering  the  fog  it  was  blown  into  a 
thousand  fragments.  Some  of  the  observers 
swore  positively  that  they  saw  the  Malay 
288 


THE   FAITHFUL   AMULET 

floundering  in  the  water  a  moment  after  the 
boat  was  destroyed  and  before  he  was  engulfed 
by  the  fog,  but  this  was  deemed  incredible. 
In  a  short  time  the  order  of  the  post  had  been 
restored  and  the  police  had  taken  themselves 
away. 

The  other  dramatic  occurrence  must  remain 
largely  a  matter  of  surmise,  but  only  because 
the  evidence  is  so  strange. 

The  great  steel  gun  employed  at  the  fort  to 
announce  the  setting  of  the  sun  thrust  its  black 
muzzle  into  the  fog.  Had  it  been  fired  with 
shot  or  shell  its  missile  would  have  struck  the 
hills  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  channel.  But 
the  gun  was  never  so  loaded  ;  blank  cartridges 
were  sufficient  for  its  funftion.  The  bore  of 
the  piece  was  of  so  generous  a  diameter  that  a 
child  or  small  man  might  have  crept  into  it 
had  such  a  feat  ever  been  thought  of  or  dared. 

There  are  three  circumstances  indicating 
that  the  fleeing  man  escaped  alive  from  the 
wreck  of  his  boat,  and  that  he  made  a  safe 
landing  in  the  fog  on  the  treacherous  rocks  at 
the  foot  of  the  bluff  crowned  by  the  guns. 
The  first  of  these  was  suggested  by  the  gunner 
who  fired  the  piece  that  day,  two  or  three 
hours  after  the  destruction  of  the  fleeing  man's 
boat ;  and  even  that  would  have  received  no 
19  289 


THE   FAITHFUL   AMULET 

attention  under  ordinary  circumstances,  and, 
in  fad,  did  receive  none  at  all  until  long 
afterwards,  when  Rabaya  reported  that  he  had 
been  visited  by  Freeman,  who  told  him  of  the 
two  other  strange  circumstances.  The  gunner 
related  that  when  he  fired  the  cannon  that  day 
he  discovered  that  it  recoiled  in  a  most  unac 
countable  manner,  as  though  it  had  been  loaded 
with  something  in  addition  to  a  blank  car 
tridge.  But  he  had  loaded  the  gun  himself, 
and  was  positive  that  he  had  placed  no  shot  in 
the  barrel.  At  that  time  he  was  utterly  unable 
to  account  for  the  recoil. 

The  second  strange  occurrence  came  to  my 
knowledge  through  Rabaya.  Freeman  told 
him  that  as  he  was  towing  out  to  sea  that 
afternoon  he  encountered  a  heavy  fog  imme 
diately  after  turning  from  the  bay  into  the 
channel.  The  tow-boat  had  to  proceed  very 
slowly.  When  his  vessel  had  arrived  at  a 
point  opposite  Black  Point  he  heard  the  sunset 
gun,  and  immediately  afterwards  strange  parti 
cles  began  to  fall  upon  the  barkentine,  which 
was  exaftly  in  the  vertical  plane  of  the  gun's 
range.  He  had  sailed  many  waters  and  had 
seen  many  kinds  of  showers,  but  this  was 
different  from  all  others.  Fragments  of  a 
sticky  substance  fell  all  over  the  deck,  and 
290 


THE   FAITHFUL   AMULET 

clung  to  the  sails  and  spars  where  they  touched 
them.  They  seemed  to  be  finely  shredded 
flesh,  mixed  with  particles  of  shattered  bone, 
with  a  strip  of  cloth  here  and  there ;  and  the 
particles  that  looked  like  flesh  were  of  a  black 
ish  red  and  smelled  of  powder.  The  visitation 
gave  the  skipper  and  his  crew  a  "  creepy" 
sensation,  and  awed  them  somewhat — in  short, 
they  were  depressed  by  the  strange  circum 
stance  to  such  an  extent  that  Captain  Freeman 
had  to  employ  stern  measures  to  keep  down  a 
mutiny,  so  fearful  were  the  men  of  going  to 
sea  under  that  terrible  omen. 

The  third  circumstance  is  equally  singular. 
As  Freeman  was  pacing  the  deck  and  talking 
reassuringly  to  his  crew  his  foot  struck  a 
small,  grimy,  metallic  objedl  lying  on  the  deck. 
He  picked  it  up  and  discovered  that  it,  too, 
bore  the  odor  of  burned  powder.  When  he 
had  cleaned  it  he  was  amazed  to  discover  that 
it  was  the  amulet  which  he  had  bought  that 
very  day  from  Rabaya.  He  could  not  believe 
it  was  the  same  until  he  had  made  a  search  and 
found  that  it  had  been  stolen  from  his  pocket. 

It  needs  only  to  be  added  that  the  Flying 
Devil  was  never  seen  afterwards. 


ELCCTROTYPED  AND  PRINTED  BY  J   B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY, 

PHILADELPHIA,  U.S.A. 

29I 


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